Sometimes, you break yourself

I returned from bringing Julia up to her new college apartment and I was exhausted. Satisfied and happy, but exhausted. For the first time in a while, I slept for over 9 1/2 hours. Pretty awesome. On Sunday morning, well-rested and excited to return to my flippy home, I put on my new workout apparel (for which I am now a brand ambassador), and headed off to the gym.

I spent the first 20 minutes warming up my shoulders with my TheraBand; I have become very serious about making sure I am warm and ready before doing anything crazy. I’ve been feeling some good results from all the PT and hip mobility work this summer. The last thing I need is any more injury. (Is that foreshadowing? I think it is.)

We spent lots of time on the trampoline playing with skills, making adjustments, and enjoying our Geriatric Gymnast selves. Eventually, it was time to move things to the TumblTrak, because I was on a mission to repeat the round off-back tuck that I had FINALLY chucked (inadvertently) last week. The TumblTrak is my mental Mount Everest and I have had more injuries there than anywhere else in the gym. It was time for me to face some fears and see if I could move through it.

Alas, on attempt #2, I chucked it (basically the same way), but when I landed on the mat, my ankle twisted and I heard a snap. I knew this was not going to be good. Off to urgent care. The PA asked how it happened and I pulled out the video. Her eyes bugged out and she said, “you can do that?” Apparently I can…sometimes.

The physical challenges

Aside from the pain of the injury, which varies from moment to moment, navigating your life on one foot and crutches is just plain hard. Every step you take has to be planned (kind of like gymnastics). One wrong move and you slip, bump into something, or cause yourself further pain (damage). Fortunately, I’m strong, so my arms can withstand the rigor of using crutches. Triangles are my best friend; they provide the most stability. Straight lines are problematic. I feel my left side glute a lot when I stand on one foot for a long time, so I have to rest often. Silver lining, at least it’s building strength and stability in that side of my hip.

These are just a few of the “living-your-life” obstacles I’ve run into in the first 24 hours of the injury.

• The dogs. Feeding them for the first time was a bit of a mess. Because of the trickiness of balancing on one foot, squatting down to pour the kibble in the bowls was not an option. Some food made the bowl, and much of it went on the floor, but they lick the floor all the time, so no harm, no foul. They didn’t care. Also, when I’m sitting in the kitchen, they think it’s fair game to signal to go out 3-4 times in a row. They come in at different times. When one is out, the other wants her to come in. It’s maddening. So, when they get too annoying, I go to sit in the living room where they are more inclined to lay down and go to sleep.
• Carrying things. When you have two hands on the crutch supports, you have to get clever and strategic to get anything done. Case in point: Making a sandwich. Every item from the fridge, pantry or drawers is a separate trip. I can carry one thing in my fingers and take a few steps to put it down, using the palm of my hand on the crutch. Then I go back for the next thing. I’ve developed a system of moving things from one part of the counter to the next, then taking a few steps, then moving them again. From one room to the next is trickier: you need a shoulder bag to carry stuff longer distances.
• Going to the bathroom has become an exercise in being methodical and precise. Hobble to the right spot, set aside the crutches, manage the clothing, sit; I’m working my pistol squat technique every time I sit, but I get the job done. Then I do everything in reverse. Ever try to wash you hands standing on one foot? Try it. It’s a party.
• Showering. My husband got me one of those shower chairs that really old or much less mobile people use. We had one of those boot covers in the closet, so I could cover up the splint/ace bandage monstrosity to sit and bathe. It was weird to sit under the shower, but there’s something comforting about getting clean, so I made it work. I haven’t tried washing my hair yet, so the hat goes on.

The mental challenges

When your personality and identity is wrapped around being a badass beast, being sidelined is a major mental hit. These are just a few of the challenges that come to mind:

• Being a burden. I have all sorts of feelings about not wanting to be a burden on my husband or anyone else, and I’m trying to accept that sometimes, you need to ask for help. Maybe that’s a lesson I need to learn from this experience: the people you (I) surround yourself with want to help. Even more, they don’t want you (me) to make things worse for your(my)self. In addition, you (I) need to give up some control once in a while.
• Limited exercise. It’s hard to know that I will be backsliding in my physical progress. My brain is already conjuring what kind of workouts I CAN do while I’m non-weight bearing on my foot. There’s a lot I can do from the floor for my hips and shoulders and I think most core work is fair game. But first, I have to go to the orthopedist to make a game plan. I’m praying I don’t need surgery, but if that’s what will help it heal, so be it.
• College move-in. In less than a week, my younger daughter will be moving in to her college dorm. Normally, I’d be all beast-mode and do lots of the heavy lifting. Now, I’ll be taking a back seat in that process, which makes me sad. A friend of mine is lending me one of those knee-scooter things, so hopefully I’ll be able to navigate the campus with more ease than the crutches. Still, it’s not my ideal situation.
• Work. By week three, I’ll be back to work. At least I hope I will. That will be a whole other challenge that I just can’t think of now.

Next step, orthopedic doc visit. We’ll see what he says. I’m trying to take things one moment at a time and not overthink things. At least, not intentionally.