Gratitude

I had foot surgery on Halloween Day.  Big deal. Except that I have had over twelve surgeries to relieve the pain and stabilize the movement of a foot that has experienced more than a few traumas in my lifetime.

It started with my ballet years. I have flat feet, so rigorous ballet training, compounded by tennis classes, jogging, and eventually wearing very high heels, “zapatacones” they were called in Puerto Rico at the time, to overcome my 5’3” frame, put enormous pressure on both feet.

But when it comes to my left foot, it was a fall in Toledo, Spain that sealed the deal. I was visiting “El Greco Museum,” a space that celebrates the work of the Greek master painter, as part of a tour group, when I became transfixed by  the beauty of his masterpiece, “The Burial of the Count of Orgaz.” I forgot about the tour bus and when I finally paid attention to the last call, I ran and ran and my left heel got stuck in one of the ancient cobblestones. I was catapulted to the bus, albeit with bone fractures that I paid no attention to. I was 17.

Since then, I have had many surgeries to stabilize my foot, all the while continuing my non-stop, high-energy, and high-heeled lifestyle in New York City. Extracurricular activities invariably included jogging,  mountain walking, brinks walking through the streets of Manhattan; as of two years ago I even took up tango classes.

And the pounding, everyday living, really took a toll. Since summer, I could barely walk, much less dance. My foot surgeon had already warned me that surgery was the only way to save my foot.  But it was not until my recent trip to Rome that I realized that I needed urgent help. I was limping, I was in excruciating pain.

Once in New York, I canceled my vacations and worked 24/7 to organize my tasks and responsibilities prior to surgery, for I knew I would be out for a while. My surgeon was ready, I was ready.

What I did not expect, what I was not ready for, was the outpouring of love and generosity and well-wishes from my extended family. My “sister” Regina Tejada cooked and froze meals for three weeks, so I would be nourished. My housekeeper Altagracia Simo, went out of her way to care for me. Colleagues, friends, acquaintances from all over called, texted, offered to come visit me and tend to me. I am not a believer in organized religion per se, but I believe in gratitude and love. 

I have learned to love and trust, in spite of a difficult childhood which shaped most of my adult life.

It has always been hard for me to accept love, until recently. This transformation has been decades in the making; having faith and trust in others does not come easy to someone who did not learn it as a child. Accepting and embracing love has been just as challenging.

But here I am, with a leg up in the air, writing and hoping to be at the office in the next few days, albeit with crutches, for I miss work and my colleagues, 

I want to thank all who I love and who make life a better place to live. I believe that I will walk and dance tango again. 

The word gratitude is derived from the Latin word gratia, which means grace, graciousness, or gratefulness. I am most grateful to all of you for your encouraging messages. You are helping me to heal.

I will forever be thankful to my surgeon, Dr. Stewart Katchis, who puts up with me, to all my loved ones who have made these challenging days better with their delightful and positive messages; I am grateful every single day to my teachers who guide me to become a better person.