Crutch Lessons: Part 1

Being on crutches for the past 10 days has really given me a new perspective on life. I firmly believe that everyone should have to spend at least two days on crutches to gain appreciation for being fully able-bodied. Before this, I never really thought that being on crutches was that big a deal. But it is. It sucks big time.

My crutches. I hate them.

Here are some of the things that I have learned about life on crutches so far:

1. Stairs are my #1 nemesis. We live in a 2-story house and my office has no elevator.

The stairs at work

Stairs are exhausting and terrifying. At first, I went up and down the stairs on my butt. This is the easiest and safest thing to do, but also not really appropriate at work. Luckily (?) my coworker Ashley taught me an easier, more work-friendly stair technique. Unfortunately, I am still pretty much winded by the time I get to the top of the stairs.

2. My collection of purses is now rendered useless. They all go on my shoulder, which means they get in the way of the crutches, which means I almost fall flat on my face.

My favorite Longchamp is now a hazard to my health.

Seriously, who would think that being on crutches would present a problem with purses? My solution was to buy a cheap crossbody bag. I got the ugliest one I could find. Just because.

Mmmm... blue snakeskin. Totally natural looking.

3. My husband is a saint.

Well, most of the time. I am the first person to admit that I am not easy to live with when I'm not broken. I am an OCD neat freak who is constantly cleaning, picking up, and doing stuff around the house. Now that I can't do those things, I am constantly nagging asking Jason to clean this, pick up this, move this, get me this. He has to help me do pretty much everything and to be honest, I feel almost as bad for him as I do for me.

Thank God he is extremely patient and loves me. Otherwise I'd be screwed. Big time.

4. Swinging doors are dangerous and impossible obstacles. And they are everywhere. I don't know how people who are on crutches or in wheelchairs function long term. Think about it - just about every restaurant, shop, and bathroom that you ever go into has a swinging door.

Jason and I were traveling this past weekend and we stopped at a restaurant for a quick bite. I attempted to go to the bathroom while he stood in line. I almost killed myself trying to get into the door and could not get out again. If Jason hadn't come to check on me, I would've been trapped in that nasty Arby's bathroom forever.

5.  Throwing your crutches is not the best idea, but it feels really good. There have been a few points over the past week where I was just so frustrated with the whole situation that I literally threw my crutches to the ground. This made me feel a lot better, but isn't the best idea becauseit scares the pants off of Jason every time (he thinks that I've fallen and comes running and yelling my name).

6. Crutches have put the brakes my spending. I have no interest in browsing shoes (can't wear any of them... at least not the cute ones). Going out to lunch or for a mid-afternoon coffee/yogurt break is way too much trouble (and besides, I can't carry the coffee or yogurt anywhere... not even to a seat). I can't run so I'm not buying any new gear (it was painful enough when the arm warmers I had ordered for the marathon pre-injury arrived post-injury).

7. Crutches are the perfect accessory for your upcoming formal event.

...not really.

I have not one, not two, but THREE weddings to go to over the next eight weeks. The crutch and boot really look awesome with the dresses I had purchased for these weddings.

8. Being the girl on crutches is like being a school bus. You understand why it is going slow and stopping every few minutes, but you really REALLY don't want to get stuck behind it.

"That's Very Unusual"

These are three words that you don't really like to hear coming out of the mouth of your orthopedist. Especially when he is looking at the X-Rays of your broken foot and deciding your fate.

"Hm... that's very unusual. It's definitely fractured big time... and in such a weird spot!" says Dr. Cutter.

I am sitting on the exam table with my back propped up against the wall. I have been sitting there waiting for 20-30 minutes and sweating. Literally. The medicinal smell of the exam room was starting to make me feel gaggy on top of my stomach being in knots with anxiety.

"Let me go consult with our foot surgeon specialist."

"SURGERY???!!!" I exclaimed as he headed out the door with my X-Ray CD.

"Oh no, you won't need surgery. I just want to run this past him."

"Don't use the 's' word around me, please!"

That was the scariest part of my appointment.

By the time I got to the Doctor on Tuesday at 2 pm I was pretty much resigned to my fate, so hearing the words, "You cannot even think about running for 6-8 weeks" wasn't a shock.

The verdict is that I have fractured my 4th metatarsal, which, in immortal words of Dr. Cutter, is "weird." Usually people break their 5th metatarsal or their big toe. It's even more strange because there was no specific incident that caused the break. I don't have a good story like "I fell off a ladder" or, "I stepped in a hole running on a trail," or "I was running from a dog and jumped a fence and landed funny," or "My husband stepped on my foot and the big lug snapped my poor little bones!"

Even though it's useless to theorize as to what exactly caused this break, Dr. Cutter and I both think that it happened in yoga class on Tuesday and then was exacerbated by me running oh... 26 miles on it afterwards (ha - almost a MARATHON. Will you look at that.) But of course we'll never really know what caused it, which is very disconcerting to me. Part of me is relieved it could have been yoga (it wasn't running!), part of me is upset that it could have been yoga (Sseriously, who breaks their foot doing yoga??? Also, I love yoga and want to do it again but will I always be scared now?).

Most of me thinks it was a combination of these things.

For now, I am not allowed to do any kind of weight-bearing activity on the foot.

Nada. Nothing. Zip. Zilch.

"Can I even swim?" I asked, hopefully.

"Talk to me again in 2 weeks," says the good doctor.

"Do you think that maybe I can run a marathon in March?" I asked, again hopeful.

"If this heals right, you totally can!"

GIANT BEAMING SMILE.

I think that was the last time I smiled, other than when I was tipsy last night from drinking way too much Pinot Noir. By the way, I don't recommend drinking a bunch of wine and then trying to use crutches.

So far the worst thing about all of this has been, without a doubt, having crutches. I'm sure I will write 50 entries on the things I have learned from being on crutches. I am a very independent and hard headed woman, so having to ask anyone for help is KILLING ME. The fact that I can't get myself a glass of water is incredible frustrating. The other day I stood in the kitchen and yelled, "How can I run 15 miles one day and now I can't even GET A GLASS OF WATER FOR MYSELF TODAY?!?!?!"

And then I may or may not have thrown down my crutches and cursed profusely at them.

And I may or may not have done this multiple times in the past few days.

Aside from being independent and hard headed, I am also a pessimist. Three qualities that are not helpful in my situation. I am trying very hard to find some bright side to all this, but it's very difficult for me. So I'm putting on my best Susie Sunshine act right now and I'm going to come up with 5 things that I should be thankful for in this situation.

1. It wasn't my right foot. If it was my right foot I wouldn't be able to drive and then I'd really be screwed.

2. It doesn't require surgery.

3. I am using this injury as an excuse to wear Lulu Astro crops to work.

4. ...

5. ...

Ok that's all I got at the moment. Better than nothing, I suppose.

Richmond Marathon Training: Week 8 - THE END

This week was going so well.

4 runs for 30 miles and a day of yoga.

Training highlights:

• Broke 30 miles in a week for the first time ever (no pun intended...)
• Sucked it up and ran 8 outside on Wednesday even though it was pretty darn warm out.

Training lowlights:

• I broke my foot.

 

I wish I was kidding.

 

Saturday's run was supposed to be a 15 miler. I made it Richmond to run with my friend Siri by 6:30 a.m. - a true miracle. It was extremely muggy and not the most pleasant run for the first 9 miles because my shorts were so drenched that their weight was making them slide down my butt. And a nagging pain had started on the outside edge of my left foot.

 

This pain first showed up on Tuesday night during yoga class. We were doing a wide legged forward bend and I was really pushing myself.

 

Image Source

I wanted to get the top of my head on the ground, so I had my legs very far apart. There was a lot of pressure on the outside edges of my feet and I felt what I assumed was a muscle pull or strain in my left foot.

 

When my foot hurt a bit during Wednesday 8 miler, I chalked it up to residual muscle ache from yoga.

 

On Saturday, by the time we got to mile 10 I knew I was in trouble. The pain was shooting. We were so far away from our cars that really the only option was to hoof it back, so we cut the route short and walk/ran back to the Y at my insistence. I figured I had really pulled that muscle big time but wasn't really freaking out yet.

 

By the time I got home, I could barely make it from the car to my house. Husband carried me up the stairs to our room where we took off my shoes. There wasn't any swelling or outward appearance of injury. I took a shower then iced the foot. We went about our planned Saturday (shopping, dinner, baseball game). I was hobbling and slow, but not in excruciating pain.

 

On Sunday morning when I woke up I instantly knew it was worse - the foot was definitely swollen and I couldn't put any weight on it. We decided to go to Patient First (an urgent care facility in our area). I did not want to go there but it was our only option as I refuse to go to emergency rooms unless there is a true emergency. X-rays revealed the break. Before I knew it, I had crutches and a boot that seems to weigh more than me along with instructions to get to an orthopedist as soon as possible.

 

This being a holiday weekend, I haven't been to the orthopedist yet. I spent most of yesterday crying, more out of frustration than anything. Tomorrow morning I'm calling my doc at the sports medicine office first thing to see if they can fit me in. All that I am hoping for at this point is a boot that doesn't weigh 50 pounds and come up to my knee.

 

I have avoided writing this entry because I wasn't sure if I'd be able to hold it together long enough to get it out. Today I have only cried twice. I'm going to end the entry here because I don't think I can say much more about it right now without making it three times.