Wednesday, June 22, 2011


Patience is not one of my virtues. Also, I am a very poor patient. These character flaws have really pounded me into the ground lately. As you all are probably aware, I broke my ankle three days before my wedding in Vegas (see previous post). Unaffectionately named Kankle the Ankle because of the size it swelled to during the first week of injury (when we thought it was just sprain...walk it off!). Luckily, the tendon is intact (I have no idea how), and the bone that snapped is small and should heal quickly. Of course, 'quickly' is relative in my case. Quickly, to me, means a week-to-10 days, max. Even that length of time is pushing it. No, it means weeks or months. Months. Mind you, I've never broken a bone in my 31 years until now. I hate it. HATE. IT.

I hate many things about it, but most of all I hate: the looks of pity as a crutch down the hall to the bathroom at work, the looks of pity as I get on the elevator, the looks of pity as I hobble through the parking lot, the looks of pity as I get out of the car and hop around until I can get my crutches situated, the looks of pity while I'm standing on the sidewalk waiting for my husband to bring the car around (which I appreciate, of course), the looks of pity when I'm trying to find a place to put my crutches in a restaurant so they're not in the way of other patrons. I swear to the Flying Spaghetti Monster, I will never look at a disabled or handicapped person ever again with pity in my eyes. They're doing the best they can, and the last thing they need is for me to feel sorry for them. They don't want my pity, but I will gladly open the door for them.

I've also noticed how completely dismissive the general public is to the disabled/handicapped. I've witnessed this for myself. People are assholes. I'm not permanently disabled and for that I'm truly thankful, but I'm getting a very small taste of what they go through daily. The smallest tasks are a huge effort.

We went to the movies on Sunday after brunch (in West Village, so the douchebaggery was already high), and the number of times I had to ask people to move aside so I could get around them to get into the theater or to the bathroom was astounding. These people are just standing around, chatting. That's fine and all, but get the hell out of the way when you see someone with crutches coming your way. Yes, I made eye contact with them, they saw me coming and just stood there. Chatting. My favorite part of this little outing was when we were all situated in the theater (I'm at the end of the row because I shouldn't really be climbing over people.), the previews were running and I'm finally able to relax...almost. I hear, "Excuse me, can we squeeze in here?" I looked up and see three people standing there staring at me like The Stepford Wives. Smiling, but emotionless. I was astonished by their bravado. Seriously? Can't you see my crutches that are blocking the entrance to this aisle? Can't you see my giant boot? Can't you see the fire in my eyes?! Sigh. I got up, ever so slowly, picked up my crutches and moved around so they could sit in the three empty seats in our row. Then, the topper was when she said, "Wow, it must be hard to get around, huh?" I wanted to shank her in the throat with my crutch. I guess they missed the three rows in front of us that were completely empty. These are the kind of people that put their daughters in beauty pageants and would secretly give them Botox at age 9.

Another thing I hate about is my inability to exercise. I'm not a naturally thin person and I need to work out to keep myself relatively fit. I like mexican food and beer and french onion dip. Man, if there were a heaven, I'm pretty sure they'd serve french onion dip with every meal, which would be mexican food. Anyway, I run/bike at least 3 times per week, more if I'm in training. I haven't done any sort of exercise in nearly a month. It's miserable. My body is revolting, and it demands I do something. Yeah, well, shut up, body. I can't help you right now and Kankle says he can't, he's too sick. Wuss. Why don't you grow a pair and man up, Kankle?! Heal faster, you weak little bastard!

However, through all my bitching, moaning, whining and tears my husband has been such a trooper. I hope I haven't abused him too much. Like I said, I'm not a good patient and I don't like people doing things for me. I can do it by myself! But, when I can't carry my own glass of water to bed because I only have two hands and they're both busy holding me stable to my crutches, it's nice to have someone around willing and able to give you a hand. Hell, he's legally required to now. Sucker!

I go back to the ortho in a week. For the love of sanity and a long marriage, I hope to least get rid of these crutches. Of course, I want to be fully-healed, but I'll take being able to get my own glass of water.

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