We drove home with unopened champagne and leftover snacks. I took a bag of chocolate raisins but otherwise managed to leave the junk in the car. Corky and I resettled rather happily in our house.

Until the next day. I woke up and couldn’t walk. Nothing like that had ever happened to me. My left foot, back above my heel, just wouldn’t flex the way walking requires. I’d already arranged to take that day off from work; I kept hobbling around my house denying that I had a problem. It just didn’t make sense. I tried aspirin, I tried ibuprofen: no relief. I rubbed. I raised. I iced. There was a little easing of the immobility that afternoon, but still my left foot didn’t work right.

The day after that I had some mobility. But I was stiff, especially when I first started to move after sitting. And a lump had developed just above the creases between the back of my heel and my ankle.

After a week of lumpy stiffness I went to the orthopedic doctor. He told me I had Achilles’ tendinitis. I asked him how it happened and he shrugged. All I can figure is I strained it somehow climbing around with Sam. The doctor said pain pills wouldn’t work because the last place our circulatory system sends stuff is down to the feet. He told me the best I could do was ice the area frequently to promote circulation there and speed healing, to rest the injury, and to learn how to stretch the tendon. He told me not to wear heels any more but I’d given them up years ago. And he gave me the discouraging news that tendinitis takes a long time to heal.

He was right. Heel-healing is a process. It must have been six weeks before the stiffness went away and over a year before the lump diminished.

But I derived some benefits from the experience. It didn’t hurt to learn a new stretch. I no longer take ankle strength for granted. I met and fell for Rick.

He was in the waiting room when I went for my follow-up visit with the doctor. He wore a cast on his right leg and had to move his crutches to permit me to sit in the one empty chair. We got to talking.

He’s tall and gorgeous and ten years younger than I am. I never would have considered myself eligible for a guy like him. To which he said: “Hah!”

He broke his ankle in a bad landing after his third skydive. But it healed stronger than before the break, and he still jumps. We’ve been a couple for over a year and a half now and he has introduced me to more active habits. I won’t jump out of a plane but we take bicycle trips. We hike a lot. We river raft. I seem to be reverse aging.

Not so Beth. My poor ex-friend sister-in-law has only grown fatter and more murky. She didn’t make that trip to Hawaii. She seldom leaves her house except to go to work. My brother, who is the most loyal spouse I’ve ever known, is starting to grow discontent. But lately I’m a little hopeful about her. Two weeks ago she twisted her ankle. With her weight, it turned out to be a bad sprain. She’ll be on crutches for six weeks. She’s starting to understand what a drag it is to have a mobility problem. She’s doing the prescribed exercises. And it appears that she is eating less.

Beth and Sam are joining Rick and me for dinner this Saturday. They’ve agreed to try my current favorite restaurant, where all the food is fresh and clean and it’s easy to dine well and still feel well. And Sunday, this Sunday, Rick and I plan to go ice skating.

Hah!