This morning, they FINALLY let me use the bike in PT! I've been asking them for weeks if I could try it and they kept telling me that I "wasn't ready yet." Well, I felt as if I were more than ready, and this morning, I proved it by easily doing 10 minutes on it. I took it slowly, but it felt really good -- and it helped that the radio was playing "Proud Mary!"
For the rest of the day, I was in a good mood and when I walked to the bus stop this evening it was, well, slightly less exhausting than yesterday. I still had to stop a bunch of times, but I made it there five minutes quicker than last night. Hopefully, I'll keep adding speed so that I can eventually do the walk in just 10 minutes again. I then got off at the "scene of the crime," a.k.a. my nickname for the spot where I fell, but I didn't hurt myself this time! Believe me, I was a bit jumpy, but this bus driver pulled all the way up to the curb for me so there were no potholes in my way. Phew!
What's interesting is how people treat you when you have a walker. When I was in the wheelchair, a lot of people were overly friendly. Now I get a lot of stares -- perhaps because I'm so large still or perhaps because my walker is a little unusual-looking and has a seat built into it (my favorite feature!). But most people are oblivious and won't move out of your way. Last night, for example, this woman was walking her dog right on the ramp that leads up to the door of my shrink's office. I had to call out to her three times before she acknowledged me and then she still didn't move! Basically, I had to plow through her. Then when I was trying to open the door to the office, people saw me, but no one offered to help. It was a little frustrating. Thankfully, the bus drivers have been helpful in picking up the walker for me as I get on and off the bus so that I can grip the rails with both hands.
What's nice, though, is that my social life is starting to feel normal again. I'm going out with friends over the next two nights and then have a party on Saturday. And then next week, I already have dinner plans for two nights. Thanks to Jon, my social life wasn't horrible while I was in the wheelchair, but I was definitely a lot more isolated. I love being able to explore the city and am glad I have that back somewhat.
My next goal is to feel strong enough so that I can ditch the walker. That and the chair have been lifesavers -- but I'd rather be out there without my"wheels."
Showing posts with label being in a wheelchair. Show all posts
Showing posts with label being in a wheelchair. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
One Week To Go...
Exactly a week from tomorrow I will be getting my hard cast off and will switch to a walking cast. Presumably, I will be able to put weight on my bad leg again and will slowly get back to normal.
This should be good news, but I'm apprehensive, to say the least. For one thing, I'm a wimp and I always seem to end up in some form of pain when I'm at the orthopedist's. Everyone who's recovered from a broken leg has told me that it feels "weird" at first, but I'm just going to go ahead and assume that "weird" is code for "painful." If I'm a little sore, I can deal with it, I think, but the last time I stood on that leg (when I accidentally put my foot down while trying to use crutches), I just about passed out from the agony. Of course, that happened two months ago, so I like to think that my leg has healed a lot since then.
However, I'm also nervous about returning to "normal." Prior to breaking my leg, my being able to walk wasn't necessarily a happy thing for me. Because of my weight, I slugged around and had terrible back pain. Even going to my office -- a 10-minute walk from the bus stop -- was a drag, especially because it's up a hill. I had all of my stops planned out. I'd walk two blocks, then sit on the steps by the church; walk another two and sit on the low ledge by the library; get my breakfast at the deli and then sit on one of the big flower pots in front of our office building while I fished out my work ID from my bag. So that was several stops in the course of a very short walk and yet I still couldn't wait to sit down once I made it upstairs to my office.
Of course, it was even more difficult getting out to do things. If we went into the city, I'd try to find things to do that were right near a subway stop so that I wouldn't have to walk far. I'd planned to have my birthday at a lounge that was right off of the E train, but then they ended up rerouting it that night. We had to get off about three blocks away ... but for me, it felt like three miles. I was so sore and sweaty by the time we arrived and I know that Jon was sick of hearing me complain.
On weekends, I'd often stay in just because I didn't want to have to walk to the movies or to the park. It was more than me being lazy. I WANTED to go. I WANTED to do stuff. It was just hard to get up the motivation when I knew that I'd be hurting. Jon was always patient with me and never said anything when I wanted to take a rest -- even if it was at every block -- but walking was just plain hard for me.
That said, I have to admit that it's been a bit of a relief to be able to go places without having to experience back pain. I've managed to do a lot in the wheelchair and it's been well, nice, being able to go out and see stuff -- and actually enjoy the experience. A few weeks ago, Jon and I went to pick up my walking boot, then took in a movie and lunch at an outdoor cafe near the park. It was such a nice day, but had I walked there (it's about a mile and change from our place), I would've been hurting.
This is why I worry. Now that one of my legs isn't going to be in great shape, how much worse am I going to feel than I did before? I've been lifting weights and trying to watch what I eat, but I have no idea whether I've lost or gained weight or what. I FEEL pretty good -- I've definitely built up some upper body strength -- but I'm still obese. If it took all of my energy to walk a few blocks on two good legs, how on earth will I do it with one-and-a-half? Is it even going to be possible or am I going to have to take more time off from work, simply because I won't be able to move my huge body?
Jon keeps telling me that it'll take time and I'll slowly get my walking back. He's suggested that we keep the wheelchair for a while so that he can still take me longer distances and then I can work on walking around the house, around stores, a block at a time. As for going to work, I guess I'll just have to take it really slowly like the elderly man in our building who practically crawls to the bus stop with his walker each day. And then I'll be in physical therapy. I'm going to be honest with them about what bad shape I was in even before I broke my leg and see if they can assist me with some exercises that will strengthen my back, as well. I guess all I can do is my best and if I need to take more time off to improve, I will. They've done OK without me so far.
I want to get well and I want to get into shape again -- and I know that the only way that I'm going to do this is if I lose weight and push myself. But I'm really not looking forward to dealing with the constant pain that's going to come with it. Part of me wishes I had just one more month to be off of my feet.
This should be good news, but I'm apprehensive, to say the least. For one thing, I'm a wimp and I always seem to end up in some form of pain when I'm at the orthopedist's. Everyone who's recovered from a broken leg has told me that it feels "weird" at first, but I'm just going to go ahead and assume that "weird" is code for "painful." If I'm a little sore, I can deal with it, I think, but the last time I stood on that leg (when I accidentally put my foot down while trying to use crutches), I just about passed out from the agony. Of course, that happened two months ago, so I like to think that my leg has healed a lot since then.
However, I'm also nervous about returning to "normal." Prior to breaking my leg, my being able to walk wasn't necessarily a happy thing for me. Because of my weight, I slugged around and had terrible back pain. Even going to my office -- a 10-minute walk from the bus stop -- was a drag, especially because it's up a hill. I had all of my stops planned out. I'd walk two blocks, then sit on the steps by the church; walk another two and sit on the low ledge by the library; get my breakfast at the deli and then sit on one of the big flower pots in front of our office building while I fished out my work ID from my bag. So that was several stops in the course of a very short walk and yet I still couldn't wait to sit down once I made it upstairs to my office.
Of course, it was even more difficult getting out to do things. If we went into the city, I'd try to find things to do that were right near a subway stop so that I wouldn't have to walk far. I'd planned to have my birthday at a lounge that was right off of the E train, but then they ended up rerouting it that night. We had to get off about three blocks away ... but for me, it felt like three miles. I was so sore and sweaty by the time we arrived and I know that Jon was sick of hearing me complain.
On weekends, I'd often stay in just because I didn't want to have to walk to the movies or to the park. It was more than me being lazy. I WANTED to go. I WANTED to do stuff. It was just hard to get up the motivation when I knew that I'd be hurting. Jon was always patient with me and never said anything when I wanted to take a rest -- even if it was at every block -- but walking was just plain hard for me.
That said, I have to admit that it's been a bit of a relief to be able to go places without having to experience back pain. I've managed to do a lot in the wheelchair and it's been well, nice, being able to go out and see stuff -- and actually enjoy the experience. A few weeks ago, Jon and I went to pick up my walking boot, then took in a movie and lunch at an outdoor cafe near the park. It was such a nice day, but had I walked there (it's about a mile and change from our place), I would've been hurting.
This is why I worry. Now that one of my legs isn't going to be in great shape, how much worse am I going to feel than I did before? I've been lifting weights and trying to watch what I eat, but I have no idea whether I've lost or gained weight or what. I FEEL pretty good -- I've definitely built up some upper body strength -- but I'm still obese. If it took all of my energy to walk a few blocks on two good legs, how on earth will I do it with one-and-a-half? Is it even going to be possible or am I going to have to take more time off from work, simply because I won't be able to move my huge body?
Jon keeps telling me that it'll take time and I'll slowly get my walking back. He's suggested that we keep the wheelchair for a while so that he can still take me longer distances and then I can work on walking around the house, around stores, a block at a time. As for going to work, I guess I'll just have to take it really slowly like the elderly man in our building who practically crawls to the bus stop with his walker each day. And then I'll be in physical therapy. I'm going to be honest with them about what bad shape I was in even before I broke my leg and see if they can assist me with some exercises that will strengthen my back, as well. I guess all I can do is my best and if I need to take more time off to improve, I will. They've done OK without me so far.
I want to get well and I want to get into shape again -- and I know that the only way that I'm going to do this is if I lose weight and push myself. But I'm really not looking forward to dealing with the constant pain that's going to come with it. Part of me wishes I had just one more month to be off of my feet.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Observations
Now that my broken leg journey is (presumably) coming to an end on June 3 when I get my cast off, my therapist suggested that I write down all of the things that I've experienced that people in a wheelchair have to go through. This way, I won't forget them when I'm walking again. I think that this is a great idea because I feel like I have learned a lot and have suddenly had to become aware of things I've never imagined. That said, here is my list:
1. Crutches are a bitch to use. They are dangerous and not easy to navigate AT ALL. My hat goes off to those of you who can master using crutches and even get up and down stairs. I could barely walk two steps without slipping and putting my bad leg down, hence me using the wheelchair. I guess, once a klutz, always a klutz...
2. Restaurants and other public establishments have a very loose idea of what is considered "wheelchair accessible." Some have a makeshift ramp to put over stairs. Some have last-minute ramps built in that are too narrow for a wheelchair, but count as being "wheelchair accessible" so that they're within the confines of the law. Some have a low step that you can technically get over in a wheelchair if you're picked up and pulled over, but it's a pain. This past weekend, I missed out on attending my friends' party because the only "wheelchair accessible" area available was the outside seating in the front (and yes, this apparently counts). Since they sat everyone in the back patio (that had stairs leading to it), they could not accomodate me. I've been fortunate in that I've gotten to go out and do a lot during these two months of healing, but I've learned that there are many cases where a paraylized person or someone with ALS or MS or any other condition that puts you in a wheelchair could be left out.
3. Sidewalks SUCK. Seriously. Or at least the ones in New York City do. They're crooked, busted, bumpy and often tilt on an angle. When Jon has pushed me down the sidewalk in the chair, it's a two-person effort with me pointing out all of the bumps and cracks and him trying to avoid them. It's reached a point where I've memorized the sidewalks so we know exactly how to go and where the rough spots are. I'd never really paid much attention to them before, but they've taken on a new character for me.
4. Doors suck, too. Every time I go through a door, it's a new obstacle: is the door too narrow, is there a door molding to go over, a ramp leading to the door, etc? Again, I've never noticed so much about entrances before -- for example, there is about a six-inch rise leading into our apartment's bathroom -- but now I find myself staring at random doorways and plotting how I'd get inside certain buildings.
5. Using a wheelchair takes a lot of upper body strength. Rolling those wheels is not so easy. You really get a workout doing it. And even if you're being pushed, you can't really just sit back, especially if you weigh as much as I do. I've learned to grab onto pipes, railings, anything available to help propel myself along, especially up hills.
6. Getting out of a wheelchair is an art. I don't know how people who can't use their legs at all manage, but somehow many do. But for me, it's become a little like rock climbing, where you have to look ahead and plot out every move, "I'll grab onto this rail and then move my foot this way and then slide in." I've gotten pretty good at it, though. I can now get in and out of cars as easily as I do even without the broken leg. And I even figured out how to navigate our non-wheelchair accessible bathroom.
7. Rolling office chairs with wheels make decent wheelchair substitutes! Okay, for anyone reading this, go out and get yourself a rolling office chair. They cost maybe $50 and it's the type of thing you'll use all of the time. Plus, you just never know if you might injure yourself and if you do, they are SO handy. Because the wheelchair didn't fit through some of the doors in our 1930s apartment, I had to use the office chair. I even used it on my first night home from the hospital when the stupid hospital wouldn't let me borrow a wheelchair and sent me home with crutches (even though the doctor didn't think I should use the crutches. Idiot.) After falling and hurting myself, I had Jon take me upstairs in the office chair ... and it took a long time, but it worked. That office chair was my saving grace. I'm not kidding when I say that I wish I could buy our two office chairs some beers to thank them!
8. People tend to be nice to someone in a wheelchair. I don't know if it's pity or just that most people want to help, but I encountered so many people who held doors for me or stoppped me on the street to say that they hoped I felt better soon. Of course, others were oblivious and got in my way, but most were kind. Who says that New Yorkers are rude? We rock!
9. When in a wheelchair, your world becomes a lot smaller. Because you now have to plot how to get everywhere, simply getting across the street is an adventure. I think I will appreciate being able to go distances again, without the help of a chair or car and by simply using my feet.
10. I've often been concerned about the limitations that obese people face (not fitting in airline or movie seats or booths; having to shop in special stores), but now have a new appreciation for all that wheelchair-bound people have to deal with. Unfortunately, many folks in a wheelchair can't reverse their conditions, whereas obese people at least have that option. Yes, it's hard, but the possibility is at least there, whereas it probably isn't (at least until more research is done) for those who are paralyzed. I'm hoping to do some more to raise awareness of this, even if it's on a small scale. For starters, when I return to work, I'm going to question the fire martial about what we should do if a wheelchaired person is on our floor. In drills, they always tell us to take the stairs, but if a person can't take the stairs, there needs to be another option. I'm also going to speak up when I'm on the bus and I see people rolling their eyes at those who have to have the wheelchair pick-up lowered. Yes, it takes an extra 10 minutes, but it's necessary! Me doing these things is not much, but it's a start in making people aware that we need to make things more accessible for others.
1. Crutches are a bitch to use. They are dangerous and not easy to navigate AT ALL. My hat goes off to those of you who can master using crutches and even get up and down stairs. I could barely walk two steps without slipping and putting my bad leg down, hence me using the wheelchair. I guess, once a klutz, always a klutz...
2. Restaurants and other public establishments have a very loose idea of what is considered "wheelchair accessible." Some have a makeshift ramp to put over stairs. Some have last-minute ramps built in that are too narrow for a wheelchair, but count as being "wheelchair accessible" so that they're within the confines of the law. Some have a low step that you can technically get over in a wheelchair if you're picked up and pulled over, but it's a pain. This past weekend, I missed out on attending my friends' party because the only "wheelchair accessible" area available was the outside seating in the front (and yes, this apparently counts). Since they sat everyone in the back patio (that had stairs leading to it), they could not accomodate me. I've been fortunate in that I've gotten to go out and do a lot during these two months of healing, but I've learned that there are many cases where a paraylized person or someone with ALS or MS or any other condition that puts you in a wheelchair could be left out.
3. Sidewalks SUCK. Seriously. Or at least the ones in New York City do. They're crooked, busted, bumpy and often tilt on an angle. When Jon has pushed me down the sidewalk in the chair, it's a two-person effort with me pointing out all of the bumps and cracks and him trying to avoid them. It's reached a point where I've memorized the sidewalks so we know exactly how to go and where the rough spots are. I'd never really paid much attention to them before, but they've taken on a new character for me.
4. Doors suck, too. Every time I go through a door, it's a new obstacle: is the door too narrow, is there a door molding to go over, a ramp leading to the door, etc? Again, I've never noticed so much about entrances before -- for example, there is about a six-inch rise leading into our apartment's bathroom -- but now I find myself staring at random doorways and plotting how I'd get inside certain buildings.
5. Using a wheelchair takes a lot of upper body strength. Rolling those wheels is not so easy. You really get a workout doing it. And even if you're being pushed, you can't really just sit back, especially if you weigh as much as I do. I've learned to grab onto pipes, railings, anything available to help propel myself along, especially up hills.
6. Getting out of a wheelchair is an art. I don't know how people who can't use their legs at all manage, but somehow many do. But for me, it's become a little like rock climbing, where you have to look ahead and plot out every move, "I'll grab onto this rail and then move my foot this way and then slide in." I've gotten pretty good at it, though. I can now get in and out of cars as easily as I do even without the broken leg. And I even figured out how to navigate our non-wheelchair accessible bathroom.
7. Rolling office chairs with wheels make decent wheelchair substitutes! Okay, for anyone reading this, go out and get yourself a rolling office chair. They cost maybe $50 and it's the type of thing you'll use all of the time. Plus, you just never know if you might injure yourself and if you do, they are SO handy. Because the wheelchair didn't fit through some of the doors in our 1930s apartment, I had to use the office chair. I even used it on my first night home from the hospital when the stupid hospital wouldn't let me borrow a wheelchair and sent me home with crutches (even though the doctor didn't think I should use the crutches. Idiot.) After falling and hurting myself, I had Jon take me upstairs in the office chair ... and it took a long time, but it worked. That office chair was my saving grace. I'm not kidding when I say that I wish I could buy our two office chairs some beers to thank them!
8. People tend to be nice to someone in a wheelchair. I don't know if it's pity or just that most people want to help, but I encountered so many people who held doors for me or stoppped me on the street to say that they hoped I felt better soon. Of course, others were oblivious and got in my way, but most were kind. Who says that New Yorkers are rude? We rock!
9. When in a wheelchair, your world becomes a lot smaller. Because you now have to plot how to get everywhere, simply getting across the street is an adventure. I think I will appreciate being able to go distances again, without the help of a chair or car and by simply using my feet.
10. I've often been concerned about the limitations that obese people face (not fitting in airline or movie seats or booths; having to shop in special stores), but now have a new appreciation for all that wheelchair-bound people have to deal with. Unfortunately, many folks in a wheelchair can't reverse their conditions, whereas obese people at least have that option. Yes, it's hard, but the possibility is at least there, whereas it probably isn't (at least until more research is done) for those who are paralyzed. I'm hoping to do some more to raise awareness of this, even if it's on a small scale. For starters, when I return to work, I'm going to question the fire martial about what we should do if a wheelchaired person is on our floor. In drills, they always tell us to take the stairs, but if a person can't take the stairs, there needs to be another option. I'm also going to speak up when I'm on the bus and I see people rolling their eyes at those who have to have the wheelchair pick-up lowered. Yes, it takes an extra 10 minutes, but it's necessary! Me doing these things is not much, but it's a start in making people aware that we need to make things more accessible for others.
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