Be thankful for your ankles. Seriously. Give your ankles a pat and thank them.

Just thank them. Because, obviously, I didn't thank mine enough. Ever since that dreaded Thirsty Thursday night during syllabus week, I have been on crutches. No, I didn't get in a fight and I wasn't saving a kitten from a tree -- but there is a freshman girl out there who actually bought that story.

No, the story behind my broken ankle is very uninteresting. Walking out of a frat house, I slipped and fell on it the absolute worst way.

A month, four doctor's appointments and one surgery later, I've started to realize how much I've taken my good health for granted. Simple tasks like taking a shower have now become grueling measures of balance and endurance. Shopping or getting a quick bite to eat is out of the question without a friend. I won't even attempt trying to stand close to the stage at the Guster concert tonight. And then there's the White Loop. Oh, dear God, the White Loop. Trying to crutch my way past 20 or more students in a narrow aisle way is next to impossible. One driver closed the door and started driving before I got a chance to reach the exit.

But it hasn't been all bad. Well, actually, who am I kidding? Yes, it has been all bad. All I want to do is to be able to walk from the living room to the kitchen without it looking like I'm practicing for a damn hop scotch tournament. I want to be able to move around at parties without having to worry about destroying someone else's foot.

I could pontificate forever about the negatives of this situation, but, honestly, it has reaffirmed a belief I had already developed about people. No matter what bad things you hear about people doing in the world, people are inherently kind-hearted. Someone is always offering me a seat on the bus or holding a door for me. A girl I had never met offered to carry my backpack for me while walking uphill on Fraser Street. This broken bone of mine, while it is a royal pain in my ass -- and ankle -- has taught me about how quickly your life and attitude can change. Before I broke my ankle, I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings. I was too busy on the phone or on my iPod, wrapped up in my own world and my own problems when suddenly a freak accident turned my world upside down. Now I'm seeing the world from a new perspective. I'm having trouble remembering what it was like to walk with two feet.

And maybe that's a good thing.

I tend to never learn things the easy way. I always have to fail a test, break an appendage or experience a tragedy before any real lessons sink into my brain. Some people think that everything happens for a reason. For a while I did my best trying to fathom that reason. I'm still not sure the exact reasoning, but I know that in January, when my doctor tells me I'm back to normal, I'll be a better person because of it.

If not, there's always the left ankle.

Rich Coleman is sophomore majoring in communications and is a senior music reporter for The Daily Collegian. His e-mail address is rmc5074@psu.edu.