Since then, the past month has been an exercise in patience -- which is, admittedly, not one of my strongest virtues. I'm usually a really active person: I thrive on the high that comes from being consistently physically active. Running and dancing are my go-to pick-me-ups; if I'm near a pool, I'll soon be in it, swimming laps.
My best memories involve some kind of movement: dancing expressively with all of my friends during class, letting everything go with each jump, arm flail (dance meditation is not always pretty!), and toe-touch; jogging no matter where I am (cities in India are not conducive to a peaceful run); gliding through the water, alternating between freestyle and breaststroke, feeling the release of tension melt away there in the pool.
So, I knew I was in for a personally challenging recovery period: staying still; needing to take taxis everywhere (technically tuk-tuks, since I live in Thailand); getting blisters from using crutches; pain; wooziness from anti-inflammatory drugs; and, most significantly, no exercise!
Don't worry, that is the end of my griping -- because what I've learned from the experience has actually been invaluable. I've learned a lot about myself, particularly that daily exercise is my main strategy for productivity and overall happiness.