My broken ankle - what I took for granted

Before I write anything else I want to send out my deepest and most profound apologies to my mother. I used to become impatient with her after her surgery when she’d tell me how difficult it was to reach the restroom. After all, she had her walker, she was good at using it, so what was the problem. Mom, I now know what you are talking about and I’m so sorry I was so short with you.

My instructions are to have no weight bearing weight on my left leg for 8 weeks. I have interpreted this as thy leg shall not touch the floor, ever. So the first thing I used to take for granted was a quick in and out in ye old powder room. Anyone else who has had major surgery will understand this. No one else on the net has mentioned this but…

For the first three days of my break I was on crutches. I have a somewhat low toilet seat. It was literally impossibly for me to lower down and control the crutches at the same time so my husband and I came up with a cirque d’ absurd routine to compensate. I’d hobble halfway into the bathroom, he’d follow behind to make sure I didn’t fall; he’d then grab a kitchen chair and contort around me and the crutches to place the chair next to the toilet. He’d grab the back of the chair and I’d then ease on down and over. We then had the “dignity clause” wherein he would leave, I’d do my thing and then have him come back, hold the chair again and I’d ease back on over. I’d then get back up on the crutches and lurch back over to the bed. I told him there’d be no way for him to go back to work if I had to stay on those crutches

Thank heavens, I now have a walker and it is so much easier to get over and back on my own. I do have to use the towel rack to steady myself so I send a little prayer to the local bathroom appliance deity that the brackets will hold on pretty much a daily basis. I’ve also allowed my foot to touch the floor as I slide down which makes things easier.

I also miss actually being able to carry things. Hands must be on the walker at all times so I cannot do something as simple as grab a glass of water. No big deal until you realize you really need it, like I did last night. My leg really started to throb at about 1:30 a.m. I fumble around get the right pain med and then realize I don’t have a glass – no way am I going to wake up Mark, who is utterly exhausted and who is in another room. But hark; do I hear the therapy cat hacking up a hairball next to the spouse? I do. Mark has been attuned into instant wakefulness for years to the sound of hairballs so up he gets. Huzzah, I then legitimately feel I can yell for some water. Had it not been for therapy cat though I would have been in trouble.

And finally, I miss being able to put on garments with no problem. I’ve been wearing oversized t-shirts and granny panties for ease of on and off. Yesterday Mark took me out into the backyard in the chair and I realized I really should either have what they used to call a bed rug on or contorted into a pair of pants. Fortune smiled though and the neighbors were not at home to see my lower extremities.