Lessons from an Ankle Fracture

Life can be full of unexpected tumbles, but we find our way by rising above them.

It was December 21st, and I’ll never forget that day. It was around 2:30 PM, and I had a lot of work to do because it was a Saturday. I had to arrange drawers and do laundry (a special mission of finding lost shirts, vests, and clothes, too).

Finally, I got my daughter’s lost notebooks, which somehow ended up in my younger son’s bag; my laptop charger and motorcycle keys were found under the bed mattress, medicine box (weird places), and so on. During all this chaos, I was also trying to find some “me time” to play Candy Crush (I was winning the weekly race).

So, now you can imagine, it was like the usual weekend when I got a text from my husband saying he was coming home because we had an appointment with a speech therapist. She was one of the best therapists in town, and we’d been trying to get this appointment for a while.

He told me to get ready for Mustafa as he would need to leave with him in five minutes. On top of everything, it was laundry day, and my kids were planning some family time at McDonald’s (in the evening). Furthermore, it was also time for Zuhar Prayer, so I tried to fit in my prayers when possible.

With all these plans for an outing, laundry, and cleaning, I got my son Mustafa ready for his assessment. Just as we were about to leave, my husband suggested I go with him and Mustafa since the therapist would ask many questions and the mother’s presence could be more helpful.

I hurriedly grabbed a basket of toys, picture cards, and puzzles for Mustafa and headed to the garage. I remember wearing my yellow-striped scarf. Which I never wore after that.

I was walking in the street when suddenly, I heard a loud cracking sound and a lady screaming. I was shocked. What happened? So, I looked around, and no one else was in the street.

I thought it might be the neighbours, but they were usually quiet and polite. I ignored the commotion and hurried on, but it didn’t help. I couldn’t move my left foot, and it seemed frozen. Nothing was there for it to hit and stuck, and I couldn’t understand why I could not move it.

Soon, I realized that I was falling onto the ground. To save myself from getting injured, I grabbed the back of the car to take support. However, it did not work, and I was on the ground while crying and making sounds ouch, ouch (loud sounds). Oh, it was me who was screaming (my brain responded).

I realized my foot had twisted and fallen, so I tried to get up but couldn’t. My son and husband came out to help me stand up. I noticed my foot was swollen and almost doubled in size.

The pain was excruciating, and I couldn’t speak. So, instead of saying, I was crying with big flood-like tears. They carried me to the bedroom while I cried like a child. My daughter gave me ibuprofen, but the pain and swelling only got worse.

Despite the pain, my daughter tried to comfort me with some humour, saying that the screaming sound was melodious (it wasn’t your sound, Mama; it was like the sound of a young girl). We laughed through the pain.

I asked if anyone else heard the cracking and screaming, but everyone only listened to my screams. No one agreed that there was a fracture or crack. Instead, my husband relaxed the situation by saying it was only a muscle sprain.

Then, he called our physician and decided I needed an X-ray. In pain, I even said, “No need for an X-ray; I’m sure it’s fractured.” Still, I couldn’t pinpoint which part was fractured. All enjoyed my “X-ray specialist” abilities due to my accurate fracture prediction.

Once again, my son and husband carried me, and they asked me to put some pressure on the swollen foot to gauge the pain. But I could not even move it; we went to the hospital, where the X-ray revealed a fractured dorsal side of my ankle.

The doctor told me not to put any weight on it, and I was put on strict bed rest for 15 days. I pray that no one else gets this pain in life from this ankle fracture.

My family members asked me how I fell, whether there was any stone in the street, or whether that patch of road was uneven. I couldn’t recall anything like that, and it puzzled me why I fell without any apparent reason and why others didn’t hear the cracking sound.

I spent two whole months in a wheelchair, and my husband improvised by fitting wheels on a dining table chair instead of buying a new wheelchair. My kids had fun playing with me and the chair. After 25 days, I was given a supportive stand, but mostly, I remained on the bed, wondering if I’d ever walk again.

During that challenging time, I learned an important lesson: the power of forgiveness. I prayed that God would forgive me as I forgave others and cleared my heart of negative memories and thoughts, even the small ones. I left no room for jealousy or comparisons with others.

Those three months transformed me into a more understanding and forgiving person. I began making amends, apologizing first, and not hesitating to admit my mistakes, even when I wasn’t at fault, because I didn’t want to hurt anyone.

As I started walking again, it felt like a child learning to walk again. I remember the first day I could put 3 kg of weight on my left foot and gradually worked up to 20 kg. After three months, I could put my total body weight on that foot, and I couldn’t stop saying “Alhamdulillah” repeatedly.

My family even teased me with compliments about how I could diagnose an ankle fracture without feeling pain but hearing only sound.

I realized how lucky I was and stopped taking walking for granted. Now, I walk for 50–60 minutes daily and have made new friends during my walks. This incident brought significant positive changes to my life.

I realized that “through forgiveness and finding the good in each step, even a tough journey can lead to positive change.”