Hello, Friends. Here I am, back at my parents house, convalescing after ankle surgery #3 last Thursday, May 26, 2016. I’m in a splint, non-weight bearing, until at least June 10th, when I get the splint off and get my new walking boot, which I will be enjoying for the rest of June and part of July. Until June 10th, it’s me, my crutches, and the scooter against the world.
In the eighth grade, we read Alas, Babylon and Lord of the Flies. These books taught me that in the event that I became stranded on a desert island or the apocalypse, I would quickly, if not immediately, be a burden and liability to those around me. Why? Because I was blind without my contacts or glasses. My contacts would only last so long and let’s face it, my glasses would get broken. Even with my contacts or glasses, I would suck at boar hunting and crab spearing, these visual aids did nothing for my impaired depth perception.
Eventually, I got my eyes lasered, and I can say without doubt that getting my eyes fixed was one of the greatest things that ever happened to me. Visually, I am now ready for the apocalypse. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but the apocalypse has been a hot topic for most of my life. There was a period of time when I gravitated toward dystopian literature, when the Hunger Games was first published and I had to convinced my tween cousins to read the novels, when Jennifer Lawrence was a tween somewhere in Kentucky. After a while, the dystopia was difficult to escape. A quick look at my Goodreads list reveals a distressing trend of nightmare wasteland settings, with heroes and heroines fighting through the jungles of what was once Chicago/Baltimore/Sacramento. The last two straws were The Handmaid’s Tale and The Fifth Wave. These books were HORRIBLE. I can’t believe anyone thought the Handmaid’s Tale was worth publishing, much less recommending to others.
Around this time, I developed a chronic ankle problem. The only thing worse than imaging District 12 in the hunger games is imagining yourself as a young cripple in District 12. I decided I would stop reading dystopian novels. Except…a lot of novels don’t tell you they are going to deteriorate into a dystopian nightmare on page 450. Maybe I need to research the books I read, and maybe the problem is that most fantasy involves a dystopian lean, but as a PSA, novels with dystopian aspects you might pick up at the airport: 11/22/63; The Bone Clocks; 1Q84; The Circle; Night Film.
I enjoyed four glorious years of being ready and able for the apocalypse, but since 2012, my right ankle has replaced my vision as the top concern for why I won’t survive dystopia. If you would like to read more about initial injury to first surgery, this post does a good recap from the initial injury in 2012 through March 2015, with links to the posts about the first surgery in October 2013 and the recovery. Then you can read about my adventures with Ortho #4 and the second surgery here and here.
It’s interesting for me to go back and read these posts, because sometimes it hard to grasp how long I’ve had this problem, and how many doctors I’ve seen, and how many times I was told to “wait and see.” I’ve been reflecting on whether or not I could have handled this differently, if I could have been more aggressive in advocating for myself. I’ve also been reflecting on how lucky I am that this problem manifested itself at a time when I was gainfully employed by the federal government in an extremely sedentary job, which has provided me with the best group medical healthcare available; the sick leave necessary to take the time off for my numerous surgeries, doctors appointments in cities 3 hours away, and extensive physical therapy; the ability to continue working despite my inability to ambulate effectively; and the sort of work that can be handed to a coworker during my absence without placing an enormous burden on myself or my coworker. Plus, I’m not responsible for miniature humans! While this has been a serious problem resulting in significant limitations in my activities of daily living and vocational restraints, I’ve been extremely lucky in my circumstances. Next post, Surgery #3!
the thin line between optimism and delusion... 