Say hello to my little friend.
The one basic rule of my post operative care is to never let my left foot touch the ground. No pressure can be applied, lest the healing bones shatter and I return to where I started. Years ago this would have meant not getting out of bed for six months. New surgical treatments (those screws you've seen in the X-Ray) have made it so I can get up and around, but I still have to keep my leg from touching the ground. There are two ways to accomplish this, crutches or the knee scooter. I will be the first to admit that my upper body strength is not what it used to be, if it ever was at all, so crutches were out of the question. That left the knee scooter.
Betsey, being the half of our marriage who is actually capable of thinking ahead, rented a scooter a couple of days before the surgery. Now we could have bought one, in fact we could have bought one pretty cheap on Craigslist, but our feeling was that it was going to be better to just turn in the damn thing when it was no longer needed than to have it taking up space in our small garage till we finally had the time and inclination to go on Craigslist ourselves and sell it. Besides, the ones on Craigslist all came with admissions like "steering doesn't work well" or "our six year old decided to decorate it for daddy". Renting the scooter also gave us the option to return it for another one should something go wrong or I decided I really needed the schoolgirl's bike basket accessory to hang off the handles. This is embarrassing enough. And all talk of a bike horn or bell was quickly sent to the dead letter office by the scowl on my face when it was brought up.
What's it like to perambulate with one leg on a scooter? Well imagine if every time you wanted to do anything, like get a glass of water, you had to get into your car, back up out of your driveway, then made a three point turn before heading out straight. Once you arrive at your destination, which was only a few feet away, you now have to parallel park between two cars that, while you do have enough space, you don't really have a lot of space. Oh, and no cup holders here, so the return trip means you have to do all the same things only now with a glass of water in one hand.
All this does mean that I need to be very specific about what the objective of the movement is. If I need to get from the living room to the bedroom I better remember to take everything I have in the living room that I want in the bedroom with me. Failure to do so means frustration and and a self inflicted dope slap to my forehead. It also means I have to bury my natural inclination to want to get things done quickly. Believe me, there is no quick on a knee scooter. Oh I just need to grab something off my desk, oops, don't put that left foot on the floor, get the scooter over here, swing the leg over, okay back up, make the turns, ah now I can get that pad of paper.
But it's not the obtaining of objects where the greatest hurdles must be overcome. Surprisingly the toilet, while it does take some knowledge of advanced geometry to align oneself properly, is not the biggest problem. It's bathing where ingenuity must be employed. Remember, no pressure on the left leg of any kind and I can't get the cast wet. What it comes down to is I put all my weight on the bad leg's knee, which is planted firmly on the scooter so my foot has no pressure on it and then I swing the good leg into the tub. From there I turn on the shower and get as much of my body wet as I can, soap it, and get as much of the soap off with the spray from the shower head as I can. What soap I can't get the spray to I simply dry off with a towel.
Still there are limitations. Stairs? Forget it. Even the single step up from the driveway to the pathway leading to the front door I can't negotiate myself. In fact, any surface that's not perfectly even has me afraid of going head first over the handlebars. Activities outside the house have to be scrutinized for how I could deal with it. I am disheartened that I will not be able see my nephew in his high school play this weekend because sitting in an aisle seat (which it would have to be) with my leg straight out, unable to get up to allow others to pass, just isn't going to work.
Yet I have to remind myself this is ultimately a temporary situation. Once healed I'll be able walk, run, chase frisbees (all right maybe not the latter). I won't be perpetually seven steps behind because of my limp or screaming in agony after being too long on my feet.
And that's what this is all for.
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