If you had told me I’d be going to my high school reunion with a cast on my arm, I wouldn’t have believed it. After all, I was still in recovery mode and doing physical therapy following hip surgery a couple of months before. I could almost picture going to my 60th in bad shape, but my 40-year reunion? Never.
Earlier in the summer, I endured two weeks on crutches after spending the past year on and off a cane following a serious tendon injury I got in a dance class at the gym. I wish I could remember the name of the song I was so enthusiastically shaking my booty to, but all I remember is searing pain, white-hot light, and wondering if I were going to pass out. I somehow managed to limp out of class, hobble to my car and drive myself home. Pride stood in the way of my asking for help.
Pride reared its head again as I prepared to go to my class reunion.