The experts tell us that the secret to maintaining mental agility is to demand new things of your brain, challenge it. Some of the most frequently cited challenges include crossword puzzles, learning a new language, and taking up dancing. I’m here to tell you that nothing challenges my brain and limbs more than learning, at 62, to use crutches in a four-story townhouse. I can just feel the synapses popping out.
If humility is part of the lesson, I’m all over that one. My eyes have been opened more fully than ever before to the challenges that face people with a permanent disability. They must find a level of peace and co-existence that fits their new lifestyle. Whether it’s a diabetic checking blood sugar levels and injecting insulin several times a day, dealing with the loss of a leg in Iraq, or communicating with an aphasia disorder, major accommodations must sometimes be made.
My mother had a stroke a couple years ago, and was very shaky on her feet, with diminished depth perception, fright going down stairs, and an inability to find the right word when trying to express herself. All of that created a level of frustration her family had a hard time dealing with. When she could express herself again, she tried to explain the level of frustration and what these limitations meant to her. We didn’t really understand.
After a recreational foot fracture, I ended up with foot surgery, a cast, and crutches to prevent weight-bearing for six weeks or so. It was then I had to deal with the mobility limitations I never had thought about, along with becoming more comfortable asking for help. And in sympathy with the diabetic example, I had to give myself blood thinner injections in the abdomen for two weeks.
Because I had the surgery the day before we drove to visit my parents for Christmas in another state, I pretty much transferred from surgery center to car, to a one-story house, where my thoughtful mother had her walker waiting for me. Talk about a shock to my self-esteem: me, the mountain climber and runner, using a walker. It worked much better on her floors than did my crutches, so I used it-in the privacy of their home. What it did was delay the crutches issue until we returned to our home, the aforementioned four-story townhouse.
Christmas gatherings were also full of learning. We drove out to my sister’s house, where I hobbled with my crutches from the garage, up a couple steps into her house. Then they had to decide what to do with me, since my foot in its gi-normous cast had to be elevated to prevent painful throbbing. So they planted me (New game: Plant the Aunt?) in a corner chair with an ottoman. Because that was the designated chair of their two small dogs, I spent the time acutely aware of two sets of resentful eyes boring into me. My six-year old grand nephew came up and asked if I knew I had orange toes? Why no, I hadn’t seen my toes since surgery, so that was a revelation. I didn’t talk to anyone who didn’t stop by my chair to chat.
Arriving back home after the holidays, the first issue that came up was unpacking from the trip: clothes, toiletries, Christmas presents, etc. Most people don’t think about making all the trips to different parts of the house to put things away. That’s all I thought about. Even getting from the bedroom to the bathroom or down the hall to the laundry room or my office presented a challenge. I couldn’t carry anything. So the first learning was to wear a backpack from room to room so I could carry stuff. That included going up and down stairs, which I finally decided to do on my fanny, since crutches and my lack of grace seemed a very bad combination on stairs.
To make sure I gave myself my shot at the same time every day, I had an alarm on my watch. Of course, when it went off, I was downstairs and the injections were upstairs, so if I remembered, I tried to give myself a head start on my journey to the supplies. And if I was going upstairs, was there anything else I needed to take with me?
Exercise is another issue for people with limited mobility. Even though, or especially because, I couldn’t go out and do my six-plus mile walks, I had to make up the difference if I was going to keep eating! Using crutches is strenuous and helps a lot to build upper-body strength, as my aching muscles tell me, but the legs, especially the casted one, need exercise and strengthening, too. Leg lifts, abdominal crunches, and other lower body non-weight-bearing activities can help maintain muscle strength.
Then I had to decide which chores I could keep and which ones I would have to delegate until I could walk on two feet. Laundry, bed-making, cooking, and dishwashing can all be done on one foot. Running a vacuum cleaner and grocery shopping, not so much. So I pick my outings carefully. On New Year’s Eve, we had an invitation to another unit in our townhouse complex. The sidewalks were clear, so I navigated down the sidewalk three buildings down, entered through the garage, and then just got up the basement stairs in my inimitable fashion. I didn’t reckon on her three-year old granddaughter who watched me kneel my way up the stairs and then informed me that she “walks on her feet”! I can’t wait to collect my granddaughters’ observations with a wheelchair and crutches when I visit them in Minnesota in a couple weeks.
The point is, things have changed for me in ways I couldn’t have predicted:
- My balance has improved with all the hopping to work around small areas
- My logistical planning is better; I anticipate and plan for any movement.
- I’ve learned to ask for help, something that doesn’t come naturally to me.
- I’ve learned something my husband has been after me for a long time: to slow down and not have to be “doing” all the time.
- I can change and do anything I have to do, with more grace and less whining.
Mostly, what I have learned during this time of limited mobility is admiration for all those people who must face permanent or further declining abilities. Making those changes and still seeing the joy in our lives is a conscious choice we each must make if we are to preserve quality of life. No one can do it for us. We have to decide whether we will bemoan our situation (excusing a brief pity party and meltdown over the above Christmas trip unpacking) or decide to be upbeat, look for the humor, and stay a positive force in other people’s lives.
There are people in discrete little corners of our country who feel disenfranchised from government and society as a whole. And yet, they have a drive to find meaning in their lives. One such person is Jim Bishop, resident of Rye, CO. A mason and ironworker by profession, he commutes 60 miles each way to his job in Pueblo, and in his spare time for the last 50 years of his life has been building a castle.
