Having an acute injury behave like a chronic injury sucks; it’s been 19 months since I broke my ankle and ruptured my ATFL ligament. I often find myself biting my cuticle, worrying about whether or not i’ll be able to dance full-out again, to experience the abandon of movement without worry. It’s the closest thing to flying i’ve found in my very nearly 30 years and I am very much grounded. In the spirit of AFGO (Another Fucking Growth Opportunity), however, i’ve learned some things about being injured, which just maybe translates to being human.
1. “My, that’s a big curb.” Despite the buzz I was enjoying from a girls’ gathering earlier that evening, I was cognizant enough in the split second before I sustained my injury, to look down and think these words to myself. If you ever say this to yourself and you have the presence of mind to do so, stop before you take that step. Consider taking a few steps to the left or right to where the curb is not so high. Seriously. If you don’t have the presence of mind to do this, as soon as you are able, forgive yourself for knowing you were about to fall and stepping anyway.
2. Doctors are lame. Sorry, but they are. I’m sure they have their reasons for being lame, but they are lame. I’m on my third podiatrist and I still don’t feel like i’m really understood (or like my injury is, for that matter.) It could be that, for a variety of subconscious reasons, I don’t want to be understood, but i’m pretty sure I do. I think that doctors are very busy and sciency and therefore aren’t really listening most of the time.
The only time i’ve left a doctor’s appointment feeling like the doctor had any appreciation of what I was feeling and how to effectively treat me was when I embraced being a bother. This is not easy for me. I am a people pleaser. I NEED you to like me, like right now. But, seriously, the more annoying, redundant, eye-rolling questions I ask, the better I feel. And, the more capable I see the hands into which I’ve entrusted my doctoring.
3. Shower seat. Really. If you ever experience a lower extremity injury that necessitates your sitting down most of the time, get a shower seat. I was able to bathe 48 hours after my surgery and being clean never felt so good. The only bummer (pun intended), is sitting down on it when you first get in and it’s still wet (but not warm) from someone’s previous shower. Brrrr.
4. Ask people to visit you. This one was extremely hard for me. I don’t really like to hostess because i’m a HUGE control freak and I need everyone to be having an awesome time. However, it was brought to my attention that my historical pattern of isolating when i’m not at my best and leaning only on those closest to me (read: Jess) was not going to work. Both Jess and my therapist vetoed this model with vehemence. She (my therapist), informed me that in fact, it is not OK to lean entirely on one’s partner during convalescence (or, really, ever). Reinforcements must be retained. To my surprise and total delight, my friends really showed up for me and I had visitors about every 48 hours in the 10 days after my surgery.
5. Have patience with yourself. Yesterday, I ventured out of the house for the first time since my surgery (excepting for one trip to the doc’s). Jess and I went to Pacifica to stare at the ocean and get fried fish and beer. Before we left, I found myself thinking “I don’t know if I can do this! It’s sooooo much easier to stay home in my 700 square feet. of familiar.” This is not uncommon for me. When I stay in the house for more than a day or so, I get scared about going out again. I have always been annoyed with this, feeling like “what kind of a weirdo gets scared about leaving the house” (other than those individuals with agoraphobia)? For the first time when I felt this way, however, I was able to say to myself, “You know what, it’s ok. You’re not steady on your feet and you’ve been inside for 9 days. Of course doing something different after that long is going to be daunting.” Suddenly, with that compassion for myself, I was able to get up and out. It’s so often not the feeling i’m having that’s the problem, but the reaction to that feeling.
I hope you never have to convalesce, but if you do I hope some part of this is helpful to you. You’ve all been so helpful to me and I am humbled and grateful.
