On Being a Temporary Gimp

Upon returning to work after a lovely two week vacation, I slipped in the hallway on my fashionable short boots and fell in front of a line of registering students. A faculty member helped me to my feet, or rather foot, because my right ankle was sore and bruised and soon swelled, purplish and scary looking.  My husband took me to the emergency clinic whereupon the verdict was delivered:  a fractured ankle.  I have now been home for 3 weeks.  Thus begins my 2014.

Fracturing one’s ankle comes with a host of learning opportunities.  For example, bending down to pick up a dropped object is a complex act, never again to be taken for granted.  Using crutches involves great arm strength which one builds up to painfully.  And forget trying to carry anything with crutches; therefore pockets become your best friend.  Finding a skirt online with two pockets becomes a small miracle.  Along with wrap-around pants, make-up and facial cleanser.  In fact, on-line shopping is elevated to new heights:  it is freedom, it is fun.  One also appreciates a loving partner even more, especially the kind who has the mind of an inventor/engineer/architect.  This kind ties ice around one’s broken foot with pillowcases and sashes with just the right pressure.  This kind helps to re-configure the furniture so that one doesn’t trip, and helps lift and carry away all errant objects.  This kind rigs up the bathroom so that taking a shower is possible.

If, in addition, one has friends who drop by with chicken soup and good cheer, one should count oneself very lucky.  Making chicken soup with one leg requires considerable ingenuity, not to mention grit.  But eventually it can be done, although carrying it on a tray out of the kitchen requires an able-bodied partner.  Learning to turn corners in a wheelchair is not as simple as it seems. One needs to practice a good deal to not take off pieces of the wall and one’s flesh.  There are many other in-house learning opportunities.  Getting dressed.  Going to the bathroom in the middle of the night when one is unsteady on one’s feet.  Gradually, though, one builds confidence and skills.  And then, it’s time to leave the house.

Leaving the abode brings dazzling panoply of new learning.  It is a tremendous help to have the above-mentioned partner who figures out a system for going down and coming up 32 steps that doesn’t kill one’s shoulders and builds leg strength. Of course, one needs a tall, strong partner with a good solid thigh for this to work.  One also needs to improve one’s hopping skills, and be able to balance on one leg, know when to use the crutches and when to use the handrails.  Stamina is involved, too, which builds slowly over the long, long days of recovery.  Also, a sense of humor helps, but laughing while hopping up steps causes some unsteadiness, so one must learn to keep it in check. 

Once down the 32 steps on terra firma, there is a whole new world of handicapped learning.  First, one needs to learn how to get into a car.  And have a willing driver because, of course, it’s your driving foot that is defective, so forget trying to drive yourself.  Again, that partner is crucial.  Sometimes your partner may drive you to the house of a terrific friend who will then drive you to the movies to catch up on Oscar nominations.  Or, that same partner might drive you to such places as the supermarket, or the restaurant, or the pharmacy, or the bank—all of which constitute a Major Outing.  Sometimes, while out in these various places, other people in wheelchairs, on crutches and in casts greet you like a long lost relative.  Total strangers want to know what happened as they hold open doors for you. One no longer feels guilty about having one’s hair washed and blow dried by a professional once a week.  And best of all, one can get a temporary disabled parking permit, which one’s partner can use while hauling you around.  This means you get the best parking spaces and don’t have to put money in the meters.  This almost makes the injury worth it.

When people look at your struggles with sympathy and ask how you are, it’s best not to go into unnecessary details about going stir-crazy, losing control over your life, how unattractive and blob-like you feel, and how you are counting the minutes of each day until recovery.  Rather, one needs to smile and say something reassuring like “I’m getting there.” Or “it’s only temporary.”  They don’t really want to have to worry or feel bad for you.

But if one is Zen-like about all of this, one can look forward to being elevated to greater heights of spirituality in which one recognizes the beauty of the little things, like picking up a dropped pen, taking a shower, standing on two feet, or driving.  One also celebrates anew one’s lifelong partner who still loves you despite with your bad temper, impatience, and despair.  One celebrates being able to go back to work, which one had not necessarily been celebrating after one’s lovely two week vacation.  But now, one sees what a glorious victory it will be to sit at one’s desk, walk the hallways, go up the steps, sit in real meetings with real people, and be able to drive anywhere one wants, whenever one wants.  After all, one is only a temporary gimp, and one has new respect for the permanently handicapped of the world.