I suffered a crappy fracture of my distal fibula last July. I was stuck on crutches for a little over a month and in a walking boot for an additional month and a half on top of that. It grounded me, took me away from my bike right as the beautiful Oregon summer started, and made me completely miserable and unable to provide for myself financially. The road to recovery has been a little longer and rougher than I anticipated. It has been quite frustrating, as it has limited my options for transitioning back into peak performance. I can’t jog or do any dynamic exercises, so a lot of high-intensity interval training (HIIT) is out (for now, damnit!).
When I got healthcare through Kaiser Permanente, I was referred to a great PT named Rachel. I had my follow-up physical therapy appointment with her today. Mixed feelings.
Bad News: Still no jogging, jump squats, or anything else fairly dynamic.
“DAMN YOU LEGGGGG!!!!” ((throws fists to sky))
Good News: I have gained a significant amount of flexibility and strength back in my ankle and have been graduated up to more functional and aggressive forms of PT. I have a check up in a month to see (1) more progress and (2) to assess if I can start more dynamic activities. She suggested more pool and bike time, so I’ll be doing that.
I think back to when I fractured my leg and all I can say is that I am so so so thankful not to be on crutches anymore. However, the fracture taught me a few good life lessons/self-observations:
- I learned the generosity and kindness of strangers and my awesome friends, who continuously opened doors, walked out my groceries for me, and entertained my bored ass.
- But…. that other kinds of strangers SUCK, like the ones who have the brass balls to hit on me on while crippled. Please, oh please, DON’T tell me to smile or how pretty I look while I’m tooling around on my “fun sticks.” I’m not going to give you the change in my pocket…. or sex.
- I am learning here and there to ask for help. I am a stubborn cow.
- My former relationship was not as strong as I thought. This was a tough lesson to learn, but without the outdoors as a buffer/bonding mechanism, my relationship fizzled. Though I’m sure there were more complicated factors than just that. But it surely didn’t help a new relationship in need of nurturing. C’est La Vie.
Anyone else have any valuable life lessons/self-observations from a substantial injury?