5.2 Slowing Down (Crutches)

Posted: May 5, 2010 in Uncategorized

I was hoping to grace you with an image — or even better, a video — of me doing the almost fall-over crutch dance. But, lucky for you, you get Johnny instead, since I’ve been alone most of the time since I rented my metal and rubber creatures from Fred Meyer (except, of course, for the very dangerous dance I did getting out of the store, as I’ve never walked, hobbled, what have you, on crutches before and I was pretty sure I was going to faceplant and break my nose before I made it to the big sliding door). So there aren’t any photos or videos, which truly is probably a good thing. I’m already hobbling around like a broken-winged bird. My pride can’t stand too much more humiliation.

Crutches are a funny thing, right? They’re like having an extra set of legs, but not your legs. Like borrowing someone else’s legs. It took me three days to realize that in order to carry things (I’d been putting everything into a reusable grocery bag and then slinging the handles over my shoulders like a backpack), I could actually get around using just one crutch. Revelation! A really gimpy, slow-moving revelation, but still.

Also, before I started using crutches, I thought I was in shape. Like, pretty decent shape. But being on crutches makes me. go. slow. oh. so. slow. The progress from the couch to the kitchen to cook food is exhausting. I have to sit down and pant for a while before I can gather the strength to open the fridge. Everything weighs twice as much now, I’ve noticed. Also, my arms, hands, and shoulders are so incredibly sore already. How is that possible? I have no idea.

But the good news is I’m learning how to use and abuse these suckers (Ideally without falling on my face in the process). On flat land, I can actually move slightly more quickly. I’m getting the hand of the one-handed dealy bob. I can now even carry drinks without sloshing them too badly. My internal refrain is: Slow, Shanna, Slow.

Slow is not an easy speed for me. Neither is Stopped.

But I’m learning. I’ve spent most of the day on the couch with my foot up on the back. I’ve done very little that required moving. I am in a much better mental state now that I know the extent of the bone-breakage, and that means I can get some thinking work done. Right, I know. You can slow the body down, but never the mind. One of these days I’m going to work on that.

Kicking butt in the next three-legged race, two crutches at a time, s.

*

“Being a sex symbol is a heavy load to carry, especially when one is tired, hurt and bewildered.” ~Marilyn Monroe

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Comments
  1. Katherine says:

    Oh my–this is bringing back memories (painful, humiliating, clumsy memories)! I severely broke my leg when I was 11 & as a result had a cast up to my crotch basically. I could not for the life of me figure out how to lift my hip in order to raise my weighted leg & thought the doctors were fools for suggesting such a thing was humanly possible. I also learned how to pack all my snacks/goodies for the day into my giant night shirt by loading it up & grabbing the hem of the shirt in my mouth (hammock-style), so I could crutch back to my perch in front of the TV.

    Oh and did I mention how during the first few days, I hadn’t quite realized that it would take me extra time to get to places (like oh you know, the bathroom) & as a result I miscalculated & didn’t make it in time & thus peed down the new, pristine cast that I would end up wearing for another urine-soaked 7 months?!? Yeah, that was neat too!

    Good luck sista…may the force (& the assistance) be with you!

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