The Silver Lining

Yes, it sounds cliche I know. But for this post, I have to share some cliches, or fortune cookie wisdom, as I call it. No bad thing should ever go without a good thing taking place or a lesson of some kind, hence the silver lining.

Sometimes you really have to search for it. The key is that you should go search for it. Each thing, even a bad thing, leads to something else... often something much bigger. Some call it the butterfly effect.

In any case, I broke my wrist in September. This may not seem to be a big deal, lots of people break their wrists. But for someone with FSH, it can lead to much more, as I soon found out.

How I broke my wrist is stupid and small and who would have thought something so insignificant like trying to move a fan could have such ripple effects, but it did.

First of all, let me say that the fan in question should not have been there. Lesson #1: Don't put off for tomorrow what you can do today. I had been meaning to get rid of that fan for the past two years. But kept waiting for the perfect replacement and was too lazy to dispose of it. I should have gotten rid of it. But I didn't and so in trying to move it, I tripped on one of the awkward "accident waiting to happen" legs, and tried to break my fall on the unstable stem of it which broke in half, sent me down to the ground where I landed on my wrist and shattered my radius bone.

So now I'm on the ground in the unceremonious "I've fallen and I can't get up" mode. Phones nowhere in reach and all alone. Lesson #2: Women are like tea bags, you don't know how strong they are until they get into hot water. So I regrouped and bum-walked my way to a phone, pulled a McGyver move with a broom handle and managed to open the door. 

The rest is the usual trip to the ER followed by a cast followed by an xray that said the cast didn't work followed by surgery followed by heavy drugs and a the life changing moments that ensued.

As I said, broken wrist.. not such a big deal. But when you have FSH and are at the point in your "adventure" where you need both hands to transfer from seats, this is huge. Seats, by the way, includes toilets and the car.

Imagine that. Now I had to get someone to lift me off the toilet at the hospital because I was stuck. Embarrassing. Lesson #3: Always have clean underwear and shave your legs. OK, that second part was just for the girls.

Talk about your independence gone, in the snap of a finger. Lesson #4: One moment changes everything.

Thankfully, I had not hastened to sort out some mobility issues at home in anticipation of what may come. Lesson #5: Do all you can do while you can.

So I was, in fact, able to go home where I stayed for the next eight weeks. Eight long weeks. Thank god I was able to work from home or I would have gone out of my mind. I had to get my mom to move in with me which was really hard for me, but I think it finally made her feel like she was doing something, anything to help me. For me, it was humbling. Lesson #6: It's ok to ask for help sometimes.

Sadly, the laying on my back, the trauma of the fall and the surgery for which I was wide awake, the effects of the nerve block and far too much time to think, left my FSH in a what felt like a rapidly progressing state. My arms got weaker, my legs got weaker and my core got weaker. I had to get a walker and a boosters for the bathrooms at work and at home. I couldn't get past imagining a life of asking for rides, waiting fro help and no freedom. Lesson #7: Suck it up. It could always be worse.

I was so worried about what people would think of me in this new state. The walker, the booster, the limping... but I got to work and was embraced by all those I left. And was greeted by another colleague who, sadly, herniated a disc and had to use a walker after a five day hospital stay. Lesson #8: Shit happens to everyone.

So I am back at work and struggling a little, but I am back at work. More importantly, I am back to spending time with friends and doing some of the things I enjoy. I had to buy a new car so I could get in and out easy (how painful was that... not!) and have my VIP parking pass (disabled sticker) which really came in handy during the busy shopping season.

Most of all, it reminded me of how resilient I, and all those with FSH, are. I learned I had developed a pattern for when bad things take place. I cry, I mourn, I take a deep breath, I pull up my socks, I get on with it. Lesson #9: Life is too short to be on the sidelines. Get in the game.

And, my parents who as you know from reading previous posts, found some strength too. The broken wrist and all that came after it moved them slightly out of denial and thankfully made them realize, I'm doing ok. Lesson #10: Reality is what you believe it to be.

So out of all that came some good. I could do without the ugly 3" scar that came along with this. But I am grateful for the lessons it reminds me of.

The things I miss. The things I don't.

I miss looking up when I walk. 
I miss holding the beautiful children in my life.
I miss running.
I miss dancing.
I miss being spontaneous.
I miss playing.
I miss competing in sports.
I miss walking up stairs.
I miss being able to exit a room with defiance.
I miss wearing whatever I want.
I miss my pretty shoes.
I miss dreaming about being a mother.


I don't miss taking life for granted.
I don't miss putting things off for tomorrow.
I don't miss believing I am worthless.
I don't miss believing I am weak and feeble.
I don't miss lying about the sum of who I am.
I don't miss seeing the glass half empty.
I don't miss worrying about the small things. 
I don't miss living in a small world with defined possibilities.

Splat!

I hope my posts about falling don't become too much of a recurring theme, but here is a stellar installment!


Last week, we had a big event at work. It included major stakeholders and executives from around the country.


I did my best to play my part and squeezed into the last suit in my closet that wouldn't cut of my circulation. I put on my ugly but sensible shoes figuring it would be better to choose function over fashion.


I spent the day walking back and forth from room to room, putting out fires and schmoozing at an epic level, something I don't do very well most of the time.


All the while, my feet were throbbing in my sensible shoes and my legs were getting heavier and heavier. By the time the event was over, I was trying to casually find a pillar to lean on looking classy rather than as rough as I was actually feeling.


Wouldn't you know it, just as I was crafting my creative exit at the wee hour of .. ahem.. 10 pm.. the president asked if I would take one of our senior executives upstairs to get her things. What a golden opportunity to connect with her one-on-one and make a lasting impression.


Be careful what you wish for.


I walked with her even though by now it felt like I was walking through sludge while my legs were being strangled by a medieval vice. My bones were rubbing against each other. My joints were aching and my back was as stiff as a board. All that from walking and standing in sensible shoes.


But, I kept going and tried to ignore the pain. I walked fast so I could keep up with this power broker in the company. I was holding my own in the conversation, engaging her in a strategic analysis of our latest initiative and then... you guessed it... I tripped on my own feet which I was dragging by now.


Splat, indeed.


I landed on my knee which left a massive bruise. She of course panicked and asked if I was ok. I was trying to think of something clever, but I figured getting off the floor would be a more useful endeavour. Since I couldn't get up off the floor, I crawled over to the nearest chair and pushed myself up all the while telling her to go gather her things and I would get her a cab.


I guess that left an unforgettable impression.


Thankfully she was too tired to dwell on it.


Thankfully I got out some intelligent information before dropping like a sack of potatoes.


Most of all, I am thankful I wore a suit and not a dress.

Disneyland Part 3 - The Opportunity

There are five stages of grief include denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. I am fortunate to be able to get through these stages quicker as time goes on. It's an important part living life to the fullest. 


I supposed I should be happy I passed through the stages well before the end of the trip. Having FSH does make one resilient.


I like to think there is a sixth stage which is opportunity. I want to believe something positive can come out of every experience. 


When I look back on the trip, I can only see my nephew's smiling face, his infectious belly laugh and his passion for life. He inspires me every day and reminds me happiness is a simple formula and I am so grateful for that.


The experience made me feel like I made the right decision not trying to raise a child on my own at this stage of my FSH. I am glad I spent the money on this trip because it is a memory I will cherish forever. I am glad he adapted to my circumstances and found ways for us to share our own special things that weren't as physical, I think it will make him a more compassionate person. I am glad to have one more adventure to look back on.


Maybe this experience was like 'dipping a toe in the water' to get a taste of what the next stage of immobility would be like. One thing is for sure, I am getting a sleek, red scooter. If I am going to get one, I better look good in it.

Disneyland Part 2 - The Reality

As I wrote in my previous post, my trip to Disneyland with my nephew was planned out well. The itinerary, the transportation, the company.. all good.


I had planned to spend the first day calibrating myself. Doing the walk around Disney and determining what, if anything, I would need to assist me. The other aunt decided that we should just rent the scooter provided at Disney. The truth was, everyone rented those scooters. Disney is huge! So what was the big deal?


I didn't think the experience would be as jarring for me as it was. I have always tried to prepare for mobility assistance as an inevitability to avoid such a moment. But I guess you just never know how you are going to react when actually in the moment. The scooter was easy enough to handle and thankfully my nephew loved riding around in it. But, I caught my reflection in the window and just couldn't believe it. What was I doing on this contraption? I shouldn't be using this, should I? The reality was, I would have struggled walking the whole park on my own. Even using the stroller to keep me balanced, it would have been tough. Why did I want to struggle if I didn't have to?


I thought it would give me freedom. But for the first little while, it made me feel trapped. Like I was trapped in a body and in a life that wasn't right. I thought I was over all that. But I guess it is a reminder that FSH comes in phases and with every phase, you have to go through another emotional and physical adjustment.


There were so many places I couldn't get into. So many things I had to imagine instead of experiencing. And the worst part of all, the new reality that not only was walking a problem, but I discovered a whole new set of limitations: no rides that were too low or too high, no standing in line because my nephew needed to be carried which I couldn't do, no swimming with him since he needed to be held, no giving him a bath or brushing his teeth because I couldn't kneel and the worst? No big bear hugs from my nephew while I was standing because I would fall over.... which I did. 


So was that it? Was that going to be my memory of The Big Dream?

Camouflage on the Red Carpet

Yes, this is going to be one of those "first world problems" type posts. Who gets freaked out about going to a red carpet event with celebrities, important locals (or influencers as we in PR call them) and generally swishy people?

Well, when you walk with your eyes to the ground to make sure you don't trip over something as complicated as your own feet, it's a bit of an anxious time.

I thought my cold could get me out of it. Alas, I must be there to ensure I meet those swishy people and make an impression. Just what kind of an impression remains to be seen.

I am the Queen of Camouflage so this shouldn't be so hard. But turning 40 came with the gift of a body shift and I still am stupidly optimistic that I can squeeze into my old clothes. Never mind that I have been handing my clothes to my friend's 12-year old and they fit her.

Oh the ironies on so many levels. You never realize how slim you were until you aren't anymore. I swear if I could do it again, I would never complain about being fat if I could go back to my old size.

Regardless, I refuse to buy anything new so I must now go through my wardrobe looking for something that is new enough to pass off as elegant, or old enough to pass off as trendy. Somewhere in this mess of dresses is the classic little black dress.

Classic because it skirts the knee so you can't see the muscle wasting at my thighs, loose enough so you can't see my distended belly (caused by lordosis but looks like I swallowed a bowling ball), with a neck wide enough that I can put it over my head with the limitations of my shoulders post surgery, no buttons or zippers at the back which I can't reach. And, it's kind of cute.

Now the shoes. Damn, can't get around that. Only have open-toe slingbacks I bought from India 10 years ago which are falling apart, but have the right heel. Never mind it is January in Canada. Can't bend over enough to paint my toenails though. But I guess we'll just have to deal with that. Hopefully people will be more interested in who is walking the red carpet, and with whom, as opposed to my chewed up toes.

Such a disgrace.. ahem.

Now, I just have to figure out how to avoid stairs, stages, hills, inclines, uneven pavement, dancing, running, bending, low cars, low chairs, having to hold more than one thing in my hands, carrying anything heavy, getting pushed over in the crowds of hundreds, getting caught in the wrong light so my FSH facial flaws show and of course falling since I won't be able to get up.

Better wear underwear... just in case. :)

So when I said I wasn't ready to fall..

...I should have known the universe was listening.

Shortly after my last post, I had a fall at work. Not the first one, but the worst one.

I lost my balance and fell backwards onto my chair, then off that and smashed into the walls of my ever-small cubicle.

I was having a conversation with two co-workers at the time.

On the downside, I have to fill out an accident report (too bad there is no box for being embarrassed). But on the upside, the team gave me a score of 8.2 for most creative dismount.