Dear Family and Friends,
Things were going well; a little too well. All was too quiet on the western front. Tuesday we had an appointment at 1:30 with a lady the other sisters had met tracting several weeks back. She'd asked to have 3 weeks to read the Book of Mormon and then she wanted to meet with us to talk about it. Since the appointment was close to our apartment we decided to take our bikes as I'd hinted at on Monday. We discovered when we arrived that our appointment had invited some of her friends to the "discussion." Her friends were former members who now attend one of the biggest bashing churches in the area. It is safe to say they weren't really interested in learning more, but we did have an interesting hour plus discussion about certain of our beliefs. And at the end when they gave us some time to testify I felt the spirit pretty strongly. Well from there we went to go check in on our recent convert and make some daily contact with her daughter, our newest investigator, before biking home. I was really enjoying the riding and felt pretty proud of myself after making it all the way up a "big" hill on Oak and so I cruised past Sister Pfau on my way down hill toward our place--my tires are bigger anyway. Then as our driveway came in sight I thought to myself, oh I can do this. So I went to turn left into our gravel driveway thinking that I should keep a little speed so I'd make it up all the gravel. Well the gravel and I disagreed about where my bike should go and before I knew it I was over and my bike and I feel directly on my left ankle.
I'll admit my initial thought was "I broke my ankle. I broke my ankle." On repeat. Meanwhile Sister Pfau and Sister Fultz finally caught up to find me sitting on the driveway beside my bike saying, "This isn't good," over and over again. So Sister Pfau went to get the member we live with because she couldn't figure out what else to do. But by this time I realized that I could in fact move my toes etc, so my ankle surely must not be broken. Sister Fultz helped me up and I walked back up the driveway and up the stairs into our apartment where I put my foot up on a chair with some ice on my ankle. But after twenty minutes or so (during which time I just kept thinking to myself "That was so stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.") The other Sisters decided I was in sufficient pain to call Sister Craner--the Mission office medical coordinator. She directed the other sisters to poke my very swollen leg/ankle in various places until they decided that I'd better go to a walk in clinic. I decided I wanted to wash my hands first though, because they were still dirty from falling in the driveway. Big mistake! After a few steps I realized it was far too painful to put any weight on my left leg and so had to resort to hopping the rest of the way to the bathroom. At this point my foot moved in some directions and ways I was really quite sure feet are not meant to move. Finally after much hobbling and hopping we made it to the walk in clinic. After two minutes and a little squeezing the doctor there told me he was quite sure I had broken it and he told me to go to the emergency room. The Craners, however, advised against it and called in an appointment to go to see a local church member who conveniently was also an orthopedic surgeon. But they did wrap my really ugly ankle, gave me the only crutches the office had--which were several inches too long at their shortest setting--and some ibuprofen. Elder Craner and the Assistants to the Mission President, who happened to be in the Mission Office at the time, also gave me a blessing. Long story at least marginally shorter, Sister Perry and I found out the next morning after X-rays at Dr. Hansen's office that I'd broken the skinny bone in my leg right down at my ankle and that I'd also torn all the ligaments on the other side of my ankle and so would need surgery. I just had to laugh. I admit I thought the whole accident and all the events following it rather ridiculous. But this was the funniest. I hadn't even been back a whole 6 weeks!
Well I spent the rest of Wednesday in the Mission Office. Though I did go out to a teaching appointment that night, which I am sure the Craners would not have approved of. Thursday my wonderful companions helped pack me up and we made all the arrangements to get my stuff home (or elsewhere) for good. Then Sister Perry called a last minute Sisters Testimony meeting so I could have a farewell dinner and devotional (something I'd missed since I always find myself leaving before the end of the transfer). I stayed the night in the Mission Home and by Friday morning I was on my way home. I even had to have wheelchairs take me through the airports because I'm a slow hobbler. And so now, my friends I am home for good. The last five weeks were a shorter end than I anticipated, but I worked hard and saw some great growth in the Sisters I was with. Now I just need to figure out what the Lord wants me to do in New York this summer!
Love,
Sister L. Sorensen
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