Life is a Pain . . . In the Ankle

I broke my ankle a couple of weeks ago just before my mother’s funeral, and I am still stunned. I have never broken a bone before, so that alone was cause for shock, but the worst of it was the crutches.

I remember seeing, when I was young, other children swinging along on their crutches (a badge of honor or at least of wealth, because most of those broken bones were the result of skiing accidents). I always wondered what it would be like to use crutches, and now I know: defeating, debilitating, depressing.

The emergency room people didn’t adjust the crutches properly, so I was overbalanced and kept falling. Even after they were properly adjusted, I still fell once or twice. It’s amazing I didn’t break the fiberglass cast or even the other ankle.

When I was down, I felt totally helpless, and this feeling of helplessness was exacerbated by my brothers and sisters-in-law trying to pull me to my feet. I understand they wanted, perhaps needed to help, but what I wanted was to be left alone so I could figure out on my own how to lift myself up using only my hands and one leg.

It’s a good thing the hotel where we were staying had a wheelchair, because those crutches totally defeated me, especially when it came time to lift myself up a curb. I could not do it. I do not have great upper body strength – I’ve never been able to do pull-ups or chin-ups — but I have been working out with thirty and forty pound barbells, so I do have some upper body strength. Just not enough.

That first night was rough. I had driven by myself to California for the funeral (which I missed) and I was nine hundred miles from home. I had visions of being stuck in that hotel for six weeks until I healed, because how would I ever be able to get back? I knew the driving part would be okay (love that cruise control!) but what about bathroom breaks and gassing the car?

I was lucky. The next day I went to the bone specialist the emergency room people had suggested, and he took off the fiberglass cast and put me in something called an aircast, which allowed some movement of the foot while keeping the ankle immobile. He also said I could put weight on it as soon as I was able. What a total relief! I still needed the crutches for a few days, but as long as I could use the bad foot for balance, I could get around fine.

I did get home all right, and my ankle is doing better, though it is still painful. What I will never get over is that feeling of total helplessness. As I’m heading into old age, I am afraid this is a feeling I will be meeting again, and I don’t like it. As soon as the ankle is healed, I will resume my walking and weight training. I will continue to take calcium supplements. Though I do not believe my break had anything to do with being newly post-menopausal, I do know that after menopause our bones do weaken, and I want to give myself every benefit I can. Beyond that, I guess I have to just leave it up to the fates.

I learned one other thing — handicap accessible ramps and bathrooms are not all that accessible.

Ouch! Life After Menopause Can be a Pain

I started out this year, my first post-menopausal year, feeling as if I were embarking on a new life. To learn who this reborn person was and to try to change my luck, I did things that in the past I would have shunned, such as entering a writing contest. For a while, I really did think my luck would change: an agent was interested in my book, I had a chance of resurrecting my defunct jewelry business, and I made the semi-finals in the writing contest.

But now? The agent turned down my book with a bland, “Not for me,” nothing has happened with the jewelry business, and I didn’t win the contest. Even worse, I drove nine hundred miles to attend my mother’s funeral, and two hours after I got there, I broke my ankle. Instead of going to her viewing, I went to the emergency room. Instead of going to her funeral, I went to see a bone specialist. Then I had to drive back home with said broken ankle. (Thank heaven for cruise control!)

So was I wrong about being reborn? Perhaps, but I don’t think so. Even with the constant pain of my ankle, I feel a thrum of well-being as if somewhere deep inside hope is singing. The continued adversity simply means that in this new life, as in the old, I have to take one step at a time and try not to pay attention to those who are passing me by.

  

A Tonic for Menopausal Blues, Hot Flashes, and Weight Gain

Call me dedicated, determined, or demented, but I went for my walk today despite the sleet and frigid wind. Okay, so I didn’t walk as long as I normally do, but I still was out there. That’s how much I believe in walking as a cure for menopausal blues, hot flashes, and weight gain. Nothing else I have ever heard of does so much with so few side effects.

There are side effects, of course, but they are all good ones: more stamina, a healthier heart, stronger bones, less body fat. I realize that a pill, or even a handful of them in the form of nutritional supplements, takes less effort and might actually do some good, but nothing beats old-fashioned walking for an all-around tonic. It’s also free, requires no special clothes or membership contracts, and can be done anywhere. It doesn’t even take much skill or effort. If you have two good working legs, all you have to do is keep putting one ahead of the other and momentum will carry you forward.

What are you waiting for? Good weather? There’s no such thing. It’s almost always too hot or too cold, too wet or too dry.

So brave the streets of Peoria or wherever it is that you live. Your body will thank you for it.