Life in the Slower Lane

When we last left our heroine, she had just broken her ankle after what was an otherwise idyllic weekend. We're now two weeks out for what will probably be a 6-8 week healing (plus other rehab), if all goes well. Keep your fingers crossed.

First, comments below reflective of fact that in the scheme of life injuries I understand this is relatively minor. Nonetheless -- being able to project forward as it were. Some reflections:

Stairs are not my friend. Our 2 story house means I'm getting up and down via my butt. Friends Jim F. and Joan may have mastered stairs (but withno choice w/hip replacements!). I have not. My appreciation of the virtue of 1 story living as we get older is increasing by leaps and bounds.

Constant vigilance whenever moving around with crutches is key. Houses, shops, restaurants, rest-stop centers (a nightmare) suddenly all pose possible dangers. That lady who tried to open a door almost knocked me over (and was mortified); the person who took forever in the handicap bathroom I wanted to use b/c of grab bars...hmmmm (I'm hoping she actually had a disability, otherwise the 5+ minutes...).

Places w/good Handicap access are deeply appreciated. But I must tell you, those ramps go long distances when you're on crutches, and the rocky condition of many I've encounted make me wonder if anybody notices that a person in a wheelchair or crutches could easily tumble because their repair has been neglected.

Everything just takes longer. A five minute shower is 20 +; dressing, a slow decision and closet selections involving schelping stuff by crutch. Cooking etc -- requires a slow, methodical movement of items from refrigerator, to counter, to cooking area -- and the microvave conveniently (?) positioned over the stove demands careful consideration of balance and potholders. Our kitchen is compact, and with a very sturdy stool positioned in the middle so I can sit, I can prepare, and also fill and empty the diswasher.

Poor husband Ken has had to assume 99% of cat duty -- which is becoming increasingly burdensome. Agnes is not doing too well. Ken's also been a constantly cheerful (OK, internally maybe not EVERY second) and helpful guy -- which is pretty great, considering his life, too has been turned a bit upside down by all this.

I've spend many years in PR working with people with various disabilities -- and this experience, minor though it is -- gives me a truer appreciation of what people who don't quite fit in the "mobile norm" experience every day. It's challenging -- and fatiguing.

Our back door is my new friend -- thank goodness Charlie replaced the Dutch door and after 15 years installed a step. Now we realize we actually need to do something to the driveway.

Friends are good. Have had to ask many people for rides since I can't drive. Thank you all.

Getting the Boot

This should be a blog entry about an idyllic weekend in West Virginia. Our long weekend included a nest of Phoebes (a kind of flycatcher) on our cabin's front porch with lots of little baby birds and a mother and father who anxiously watched the intruders (us) so much that we moved our chairs to another part of the porch.


It also included a very enjoyable ride on the Allegheny Highland Trail, with it's .8 incline on the return (we were pooped by the last 2 miles of the 25 mile ride, it's better when downhill is on the way back.). There was also a nice lunch at the renovated Bedford Springs Resort (worth a visit -- amazing place, especially if you like massively good historic renovations). The Springs has several hiking paths and we took a 2 mile up and back that was lovely. As was 95% of the next day's walk at the Nature Conservancy/Potomac Audubon's new site near Great Cacapon.

Unfortunately, the downside of that walk was my downfall -- literally and figuratively. Foot stumbled on a rut (and on a branch that made an awful CRACK!) and I went tumbling onto the gravel -- with a foot going other way. Getting up it was clear all wasn't well. So we hobbled back down to the car (about 1/4 mile) and back to the cabin, where, after climbing the two-story steps, my undone sock revealed, well, it wasn't pretty and needed attention. So. Good soldier, and very helpful spouse Ken had to pack up all (we hadn't planned to return til Tuesday morning) including the cat and back we went through traffic -- dropping me off at HC General about 6:45-7:00. 3+ hours later I was home with a splint, diagnosis of a broken ankle bone and orders to see an orthopedist in a day or so. "You're going to become good friends with an orthopedist" were their exact words. So I did. Saw a Dr. at MD Orthopedics up the street (nice place , good staff/Drs, but a 4 hour wait for treatment a bit long guys) -- crutches, etc for a while. So I've traded hiking boots for a different boot. Sigh. And become dependent on the kindness of spouses, friends etc for all transportation etc. And did I mention we live in a two story house?