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.

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?

Success is in the Buckets

I have been thinking a lot about my last post and what I wrote about how foolish I thought it was that people think 'you can do anything you put your mind to". Sounds pretty negative and very un-zen-like, doesn't it? So I thought I would clarify.

I do think there are some things you can achieve with hard work, passion, commitment and determination. And there are some you can't. It's the absolution component that troubles me.

The reality is, life is made of three buckets where your successes live. Bucket One contains the things you have control over. Bucket Two is where you put things you have some control over. Bucket Three is for the things you have no control over.

This was a lesson taught to me by someone on our company's leadership team. It was a lesson on managing expectations and creating an environment where you can actually succeed. I think the theory is as relevant for life situations.

I wanted to be in advertising and I went after it and did it. I wanted to get my accreditation in PR and I worked hard and I did it. I had control over these things. I found a way to get the money, worked through the time commitment and worked hard to do well.

I also want to be able to run, to skate, to dance. But my FSH is in the way. Weakened muscles, a foot drop and I don't even know what to say about my ankles. But, right now, I have no control over those things and so I can't achieve what I would like. This is Bucket Three. (By the way, I hate Bucket Three, but it's part of the buckets and so there it is.) Now I have a choice. a) I can kill myself trying to make this go in Bucket One. b) I can redefine the goal based on what I can control and achieve a different success. Or, c) I can take comfort in releasing the pressure on myself for something I can't control and can't change.

I use the word comfort deliberately. It takes awhile to get there because it feels like defeatism at first. No one wants to accept they don't have complete control over their life and can't determine their own future. People who think that will find it very challenging to accept life's natural course of evolution. People get sick for no reason. People die unexpectedly. Things happen we can't understand. When you accept what bucket things are in, it is a liberating feeling and actually puts the control of your success back in your hands.

I leave you with this old quote, that is as true today as it was when I was a little girl reading it on my grandfather's wall:

"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference."

Or the modern version:

"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to hide the bodies of everyone I killed who pissed me off."