I've been disabled for about 6 weeks now so I consider myself an "expert" in all things crutches related ;) Here's what I've learned:
Learn to accept help - I'm very independent and if I can do something myself, I will. Being on crutches changes all of that! I can no longer perform simple tasks such as carrying a cup of coffee from the kitchen to the sofa and, it never fails, as soon as I sit down, I will notice that I left something I need in another room. I have had to rely on Dustin a lot to bring me things, scoop the cat box, and feed me. The guilt is real! It sucks laying on the couch watching your significant other clean and cook and take care of the house. I want to help....but I can't. Honestly, though, if you have a good person in your life you have to remember that they really don't mind taking care of you and doing your share of things for a while. It's love, okay? You would do the same for them if the situation were reversed. Accepting help from strangers or coworkers, however, is a whole other matter. As an introvert, I tend to shy away from small talk and I would never dream of asking someone I wasn't terribly close with to do things for me. But you have to! You
need to sometimes! Picture this: it's my first day going back to work after the surgery and I still have not mastered going down the stairs from my second floor apartment. My neighbor who had just moved in across the hall saw me struggling and sprung into action helping me down the stairs and making sure I was able to get out the door and to my car safely. Pride said
"No! I can do it myself!" but common sense said
"Oh my god. I'm so glad you showed up when you did. THANK YOU!" People want to help you. You need the help. Accept it. It will make your life on crutches so much easier!
You will have to tell your story over and over......and over again - On average, I have to answer the question of "OMG, what happened" at least five times a day. It gets old and it's very easy to seem annoyed and put off as you answer this question for the millionth time. And personally, I think it's rude of strangers to make comments like "Ouch! That looks like it hurts" because yes, yes it does hurt. It hurt a lot when it happened and it kinda still does hurt. So shut your face and keep walking with your perfectly healthy legs! Move on, nothing to see here! But I have realized that 1). people feel awkward around people with disabilities, even temporary ones, so they try to empathize with your pain and suffering by acknowledging your situation. Is it still rude? Sure. But I get why people do it and 2). people are just curious. Who hasn't bitched about drivers rubbernecking at a car accident on the highway and then slowed down yourself to make sure you get a good look as well? We all do it. As much as it annoys me, I would rather someone just ask what happened rather then giving me that "I want to look but I don't want to look like I'm looking" stare. Oh! and 3). people actually genuinely care sometimes. I know. Weird concept, right? They want to know what happened so they can think of ways to help you get through this.
Plan ahead for everything - Gone are the days where you can wait til the last minute, rush out the door, and expertly glide down the stairs to your vehicle. Say goodbye to sitting at your desk working on a project while your bladder is bursting at the seams thinking "it's ok, I'll just race to bathroom later before I explode, I just need five more minutes." Those quick showers? Gone. Everything you do now will take twice as long to accomplish because you now move at a snail's pace. Even getting into the car is an ordeal. I have to open the door, position myself so that I can get seated safely, lean my crutches up against the inside of the car door in such a way that I don't knock them over as I get in yet they are not too far out of the way so that I can reach for them to store them in the front passenger seat, and hope against all hope that the person who parked to my left didn't park too close so that I can even accomplish all of the above in the first place. Ugh, I just read that back to myself and realized what a poorly constructed sentence that was. But whatever, I'm injured. My brain is busy telling my leg to heal, okay?
Your body will change in expected and unexpected ways - I've been on non-weight bearing for the past six weeks. As a result, my left thigh has already started to atrophy and I can barely move my toes on that foot. I can't even muster a wiggle most days. On the other hand (or leg, rather) my right thigh is a BEAST! If I was capable of pulling off a back sit spin right now, I would have muscles for days and would probably be able to get pretty low. So yeah, needless to say, I'm...unbalanced looking with one thigh bigger than the other. Get ready to gain or lose weight. I ended up losing quite a bit for several reasons. I'm no longer physically able to get snacks from the kitchen and I have virtually no appetite. I was thin to begin with so now I just look, well, malnourished. Milkshakes and ice cream have helped put on some pounds but I still get the "wow, you're getting skinny" comments. You will be more emotional than usual. At first, I thought it was period hormones or just a mild case of depression given my situation but then I read an article about how the anesthesia from the surgery can linger in the body for weeks and make you prone to crying over almost anything. I am not proud to say that I have cried because of pizza, I cried at work, and I cried at a kids shoe store. Bring tissues, you will probably need them everywhere you go. Walking on crutches all day everyday for six weeks will
kill your armpits! I cannot recommend those poofy armpit crutch pads highly enough. Also, if you can afford one, get yourself one of those knee scooters but know that it won't solve all of your problems. I can't take mine back and forth from home to work because it weighs as much as a small bicycle and is just as unwieldy and the turning radius on it sucks so, in order to turn around, get ready to do a 17-point turn. But they are fun (mine has a bell, a cushy seat, and a very handy basket which is a life-saver!). I keep mine at work and it has helped tremendously!
There will be things you want to do but can't now and that is super disappointing - Obviously, skating. Can't do it right now. In my head, I envision myself blasting through PT as their star student and making my way back to the ice in January ready to pick up where I left off. The reality is, you need to hope for the best and plan for the worst. By now, I should be in a walking boot. Instead, I'm still in this cast for another two weeks. I wanted to walk down the aisle at my own wedding in a couple of days. Instead, I'm sitting here trying to figure out how I'm going to hold my bouquet if my hands are already occupied with crutches (this hit me hard the other day as I realized that I won't be able to even carry my own bouquet. Disappointment!). So, you can sit there and wallow in your sadness and I'm sure people would understand and sympathize. Does that help solve your problems, though? No. Look, this whole thing is disappointing. Nobody ever plans for stuff like this and when you realize that your plans won't work out the way you envisioned, you need to put your big girl pants on and figure out a way to make the best of things. Example, in addition to not being able to carry my own bouquet down the aisle, I realized that my fiberglass cast sticks to everything and it will act like velcro with the bottom half of my wedding dress. So I can sit back and cry about how I can only wear one shoe and my dress will stick to my cast OR I can embrace it and find creative solutions to the problem so that we can still have fun and incorporate this whole thing into the wedding (I'm going to wear my short get-away dress instead of the long one, I bought purple low-top converse to match my purple cast, and instead of a traditional guestbook, people will sign my cast). There is always a way to find the silver lining :)
I'm still going to have moments where I feel defeated. I see these moments especially cropping up once I start PT. But maybe I can look back at this and see the good instead of focusing on the bad. I've learned a lot in these last six weeks and I'm sure I'm not done learning life lessons from this whole ordeal. The biggest lesson, I'm sure, is that
this is temporary! I'm fortunate that this is merely a setback and not a lifelong disability. I'm lucky that, eventually, I will be able to lace my skates again and get back on the ice. This is just a bump in the road. You know how they say "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger?" As cliche as that is, it's freakin' true! My motivation to come back from this is through the roof! I'll be a force to be reckoned with for sure!
