A Sunny Day in March With My Cast
It's sunny and cold today. The snow is shrinking quickly, though not quite fast enough. I am on my second week in my walking cast. Tomorrow may be the day I am finally liberated from any cast at all and "get" to progress to wearing just a brace. A brace with sneakers, but still not a cast.
If you've ever had a cast you know the day-to-day indignities, the insecurity, the balance issues, the importance of not tripping others and not being tripped and the balance issues. Yes, I said 'balance issues' twice. The first two weeks or so I fell on average twice a day. Some days I fell four times. My son would hear me topple and yell "Are you all right? Are you all right?!!" and rush to my side. The worst fall I took was on the carpeted floor in the living room. I managed to break a few Xmas ornaments with a crutch and smacked my head hard on the hardwood floor. I fell twice on the highly polished hard wood kitchen floor at my little six-year-old charge's house. That scared him and I felt even guiltier than when I scared my son. I got the hang of it into my third week and at least I stopped falling.
What has amazed me is the reaction of those who've never worn a cast. They crowd too close behind me, step too close in front of me, dart or walk across my path suddenly and too often are oblivious to my struggles with a heavy door I just can't manage. People who have been "casted"--that's what my orthopedist calls it--don't do this. They know.
Then there are the dolts who see a pair of crutches and think to themselves "that looks kind of fun". Unfortunately most of these folks are related to me. My son, my ex-husband, his toddler, even my daughter think it's fun to play with my crutches. They don't realize that having an inflexible boat anchor-like thing attached to your leg is not fun. They swing about, use them as pretend guns (three year old, not ex-husband) and do balancing tricks. Mostly they leave them in the other room or even upstairs so that I have to hobble around like a Macy's parade balloon with only one guide wire. That's annoying and it makes my ankle throb.
My fingers are crossed that tomorrow the cast will be history. Then I get to look like a doofus wearing sneakers with a brace. High top sneakers. At first that will be novel and then I'll feel like an American tourist abroad. Bitch, bitch, bitch. Did I mention it's sunny today?
If you've ever had a cast you know the day-to-day indignities, the insecurity, the balance issues, the importance of not tripping others and not being tripped and the balance issues. Yes, I said 'balance issues' twice. The first two weeks or so I fell on average twice a day. Some days I fell four times. My son would hear me topple and yell "Are you all right? Are you all right?!!" and rush to my side. The worst fall I took was on the carpeted floor in the living room. I managed to break a few Xmas ornaments with a crutch and smacked my head hard on the hardwood floor. I fell twice on the highly polished hard wood kitchen floor at my little six-year-old charge's house. That scared him and I felt even guiltier than when I scared my son. I got the hang of it into my third week and at least I stopped falling.
What has amazed me is the reaction of those who've never worn a cast. They crowd too close behind me, step too close in front of me, dart or walk across my path suddenly and too often are oblivious to my struggles with a heavy door I just can't manage. People who have been "casted"--that's what my orthopedist calls it--don't do this. They know.
Then there are the dolts who see a pair of crutches and think to themselves "that looks kind of fun". Unfortunately most of these folks are related to me. My son, my ex-husband, his toddler, even my daughter think it's fun to play with my crutches. They don't realize that having an inflexible boat anchor-like thing attached to your leg is not fun. They swing about, use them as pretend guns (three year old, not ex-husband) and do balancing tricks. Mostly they leave them in the other room or even upstairs so that I have to hobble around like a Macy's parade balloon with only one guide wire. That's annoying and it makes my ankle throb.
My fingers are crossed that tomorrow the cast will be history. Then I get to look like a doofus wearing sneakers with a brace. High top sneakers. At first that will be novel and then I'll feel like an American tourist abroad. Bitch, bitch, bitch. Did I mention it's sunny today?
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