For September I was hoping for something grand and glorious to relate for my New Thing. My ambition ranged from skydiving and cave zip lining (both thrown out for finical reasons) to running a mile.
As I mentioned in my last post, it was in pursuit of this last thing that I injured my knee in keeping with my annual September tradition: get hurt and take two weeks off work. As traditions go, this one really sucks.
However, I am now back at work and my knee is better…all except for an irritating ache every time it rains or threatens to. I am infinitely grateful NOT to have had surgery! Two weeks on crutches or the couch about drove me batty: I can’t imagine my sanity or my family’s would have taken much more.
However, the incident to allow to do something that I have never done before, though I can safely say that it was not on my list and was never going to be if circumstances hadn’t forced it. I can now say I have hobbled about on crutches.
Now, I’m a CNA–I know most medical equipment. Had they assigned me a walker or a wheelchair, I could have shined like the sun. But we don’t do crutches in a nursing home; the general consensus is that they would do more damage than good among the elderly and balance-impaired. So I didn’t already know every trick in the book for dealing with crutches, or how to make them fun. After almost two weeks, I still don’t know. Crutches are fun-impaired…at least when you’re the one on them. Everyone around me seemed to be always cracking up.
By the way, there is no good way to carry things when hopping around with two miniature ladders under your arms. I lived in fear that I would drop my precious (a.k.a. my iPad) and then the crap would really hit the fan. Doors also posed quite the problem, even for someone as creative as me. The best way that I discovered to get the blasted things open was to balance on your good leg while you push the door open, then turn around and use your butt to keep it open while you hobble in backwards. . .however when the door is glass and there are several men on the other side. . .yeah. The only other good way is make use of someone else’s arms and have them hold the door for you. Now, I’m a gentlemen. I GET doors for other people. It makes me very self-conscious when others do it for me. Moreover, I have an independent streak and despise feeling helpless. The other thing I despise is being told what I can’t do and it seemed like everyone and my brother was telling me what I couldn’t do or shouldn’t do.
“You need to be more careful” was phrase I heard most during my recovery; though it might have been tied with “How’s your knee?” Though kind, I think they were all asking after the wrong body part. My knee only hurt while I was on it, so consequently my ass became very sore.
They say pride goes before the fall, but I think mine went after.