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So, it's been a year to the day from when I went in for emergency ankle surgery and they put a whole drawer worth of screws and plates and pins in my left ankle after I rolled on some wet grass the day before. And things are so much better! I can walk again! Pain is WAY down!
I'm gonna have an achey ankle for the rest of my life, but it could have been a lot worse! I'm very, very grateful for the quick and effective and affordable care I got at the hospital, and the amazing physiotherapist I found. Recovery is a real trip and you need a good team.
The REAL hero here is Matt, though, who came and got me when I fell down, held my hand through all the swearing I had to do during assessment and treatment at the hospital, and then did literally everything for us for months while I recovered.
He still has to step up, all the time; if I stood for too long and now can't cook/do dishes; if I garden too hard and stress my ankle; if I let my joint get cold on a walk and the nerves seize up and I need him to go get the crutches so I can get home; if I just have a sore day.
A lot of folks who've broken their ankles said really nice things to me while I was out with the cast or the boot or crutches or the cane, things like "oh, after six months I was jogging again!" or "you'll be back to normal in no time!" and I know, I know they meant well, but..
Well, I don't think we had the same experience. I shattered the heck out of my ankle in a pretty shitty freak accident; the surgical residents at the hospital remember me for how bad the break was; my physio remembers me for how many other fun chronic problems I came with.
It's taken me a year to accept that their injury and recover are not and will not be my experience. Sometimes I beat myself up over not pushing myself to be jogging yet, or for accepting that my not-back-to-normal mobility might actually be my new normal.
I need to celebrate what I've got here! One year ago I really put my body through the wringer, and it's pretty great to be able to garden, and walk the dog with Matt, and stand in the kitchen long enough to cook and clean and knead bread; slow healing is still healing.
So many folks that have helped me learn about ableism and how society measures bodies against some "healthy" standard; I know that the months I spent on crutches do not give me access to the experience of a lifetime of battling for access and respect and autonomy.
Thanks to what I've learned about ableism from folks who have shared their experiences, I can recognize my own ableism coming for my self image in a big way after this experience. It's probably sneaking into this thread all over the place, it's so insidious.
