I'm sure you're all tired of hearing me complain about my leg injury but I'm not quite done complaining. If you've never suffered an injury like this before, then you probably don't realize how debilitating it can be.
First, let's go over the injury. This image shows the fracture in my left leg fibula.
Looks pretty bad, right? You might be thinking, "Yeah, but bone fractures can heal pretty quickly... why does she have to wait 3 months to walk?" I present, figure 2:
As you can see in this image, my ankle looks to be quite offset. Anywhere where there's a large gap between the bones is a torn ligament. I basically dislocated my ankle. The doctors did surgery to screw it all back together.
Sixteen stitches and eight screws - that's what it took to put my leg and ankle back together. And it needs roughly 3 months to heal before I can really use it; it will be at least 6 months before it's completely healed.
12 weeks on crutches. If you've never had to use crutches before, then you probably have only a vague idea of how much it changes your life. Being on crutches forces you to relearn or find new ways of accomplishing the smallest of tasks. For example, here is a list of some of the things I either can't do or find it very difficult to do while on crutches:
- Carry plates, bowls, beverages from one place to another
- Carry anything that doesn't fit in a back pack
- Open heavy doors
- Stand comfortably for more than 5 minutes
- Get dressed/undressed while standing
- Pick stuff up off the ground
- Carry a laundry basket
- Shower standing up
- Go grocery shopping
- Go up and down stairs, ramps or hills
- Jump up when you spill hot liquids on your lap
- Talk on the phone or text while walking
- Go further than 2 blocks without the use of a motorized vehicle
- Go further than one block without breaking a sweat
- Get a pedicure (I really need one)
- Stomp (this seems trivial but when you're pissed off at having a broken leg for months, it'd be nice to be able to stomp or even kick something)
- The hardest thing to do on crutches is to feel strong
60 days. That's how long I've gone without walking. My arms have had to compensate for everything my leg used to do. On the rare days that I have the energy to take the bus to and from work, I come home exhausted. I can barely lift my arms.
The worst part might be having to continually tell people that no, there is not much they can do to help. When a stranger offers to help me up a hill, yes, it seems like a nice gesture. However, apart from carrying me (which I'm not about to let someone do, even if I thought they could) there's literally nothing they can do. While I appreciate the thought, the offer really only serves as a reminder of how pathetic I must look, struggling to get somewhere. The more people offer to help me with things they can't actually do, the more I'm reminded of my weakened state.
It's one thing to feel emotionally broken and weak; you can hide that from others (most of the time anyway). But when you're physically broken and weak, it's obvious to everyone. The looks of pity and concern are killing me. I can see when people hold their breath as I attempt to go up stairs; I can hear the gasps as I lose my balance and the sighs of relief as I regain it.
But here's what I've learned in the last few weeks: It takes a lot of strength to recover from a broken limb. Crutches (and wheelchairs, canes, etc...) are not necessarily a symbol of weakness; they are a symbol of strength. They are not simply something to lean on; they are tools. I could have chosen to stay at home, in bed, and wait for my leg to get better. Instead I chose to learn a new tool to regain some of my independence.
I am not fragile. I am strong. My leg is broken. I am not. I do almost everything for myself. I've learned to adapt. It's difficult, but I'm doing it. If I stumble, I will get back up. I may be hurt, but I'll survive. So you don't have to look at me with pity and concern. I will be fine.
