How I Fractured My Leg Part III

Coming home from the ER with a leg fractured in two places and using crutches for the first time was unsettling to say the least. I'm wobbly and just a little dizzy. 


You don't realize how your two arms and two legs help with your balance until you are using a pair of metal crutches to maintain your balance. 

Making my way from the car, up the sidewalk to our townhouse was agonizing. Every time I moved forward, pain jolted through my ankle. On top of that, I'm already exhausted from a night in the ER. 

Joseph hovers, afraid I'm gonna fall and re-injure myself. But he's helpless to provide assistance. I'm far too heavy for him to carry me into the house anyway. So I've got to do this on my own. 

When I finally make it to my townhouse, I sit down on the bottom concrete step to rest and catch my breath. I have six concrete steps to climb. With no other way, I scoot up, step by step, backward, on my butt. Every time I move, pain shoots through my leg. 

By the time I get to the top of these six mere steps, I'm in near tears. Humiliated. 

Once at the top of the stairs, there is a short concrete sidewalk to forge across. Usually, it takes 4-5 steps to cover it when walking normally. I felt like it was the Grand Canyon. 

Unless I wanted to stay outside all day, I muster the courage to scoot backwards, in a kind of crab walk, my ankle hurting with each movement. My left thigh cramping from supporting the weight of the splint off the sidewalk. 

To give you a point of reference, the weight of an ice cube on my ankle was enough to cause pain. So maneuvering myself into my house after a night in the ER was very painful.  

I rest on the bottom step of the stoop, tears in my eyes, mortified at my predicament.

Why did this have to happen to me? 

I make it inside where the boys are happily waiting for the return of their mom. They want to hug and snuggle but that's not an option right now. 

I scoot / crab walk backwards along the linoleum floor of the foyer to the stairs. The careful, tedious ascent up another flight of stairs to our bedroom was like climbing a mountain--no hyperbolic exaggeration either. 

I'm dredging my soul for the last bit of physical and emotional strength to get myself in bed so I can elevate my leg.  

This is a fine mess I've gotten myself into. A fine mess indeed.