The trials of a cripple

Okay! Lets start a new Post...

Its Dec. 1st y'all. Most people by now might know i am crippled with a severely sprained ankle (Out 5 weeks with a hard cast: grade 2 or 3 spraining: meaning ligament tearing, potentially complete tear. Immobilization time required for ligaments to repair and heal at the correct length).

What this means is that I am now working from home, recommended by the Drogheda Lady of Lourdes Hospital that I do not go to work. I cant walk, and I cant drive. Im completely useless and hopeless. Im about 2 weeks into it with 3 weeks to go. And seriously I am cracking up, going bonkers... coo coo for cocoa puffs.

Lets start from the beginning first: I broke it almost 2.5 weeks ago, playing soccer, I was going in on goal, breakaway situation, tried to get around the goalie's left, he went for my legs, I jumped at an angle, and then landed, but very badly. At least in my final motion, I still scored the goal (Feckin Rights I scored). I didnt really break it though, as I have mentioned above, only the first doctor I saw suspected it might be slightly fractured, but it sounds better when I say it that way, and to be fair, 5.5 weeks is a very long time to have a disability due to sprain, which first of all questions the abilities or methods of these Irish doctors. 6 weeks is the healing time for a real fracture, for crying out loud.

So what is it like being completely useless and hopeless for weeks upon weeks?

Well for one, its a daily battle to keep my feet from smelling like bad French Cheese. When you have a cast on your foot and lower leg, its not allowed to get wet. Getting wet is a bad idea. Only problem is that feet sweat. Like ALOT. You know how youre feet start feeling unbearably grime after being forced to wear the same socks for two days in a row? Well I can say with no pride, that it feels like Ive been wearing the same sock for 2.5 weeks now. Its disgusting. Imagine what it will be like 2-3 weeks from now: Mushrooms could be growing in there, for all I know. The best I can do is carefully wash my toes with a warm towel, so at least the webbing of my toes are April Fresh. Even still, I cant wait to get this bastard of a thing off.

Not being allowed to get the cast wet also poses another daily (but now slowly waning to bi-daily ) obstacle: washing myself. I made the typical rookie mistake of thinking I could wrap my cast in plastic bags and then shower with the 'one leg in, one leg out' technique. This was very awkward though, converting a normally soothing activity into a strenuous one. Nobody wins here. After trying that out for a few days, I felt for the sake of the environment Id go to the bath route (Im saving in wasted plastic bags to cover my cast). And this was very good direction to go in. by propping my damaged foot on bath wall and letting it hang, there is no cause for discomfort. Its win win. The only downside is the perperation required.. but then again Im at home all the time, so no big deal.

Food is another challenge, because I might as well have the same challenges of an agrophobic (fear of outside, open spaces). Meaning Im stuck inside my place and cant move. Again I cant drive, and I can only last 10-20 mins on my crutches, so Im completely dependent on delivery. I got some sympathy in the first few weeks, with people visiting and giving me rides and dropping off food. People tend to forget you though after a week. Im a victim of media's 24 hour cycle and short attention spans. Hardly anyone visits anymore and so Im now forced to ration. Order chinese one day, Pizza another, and then maybe Indian the next. Hopefully someone will take me to groceries soon, because If I havent told you already, Ill tell you again, take out food is completely substandard in Ireland. But Beggers cant choose. As a kid I thought itd always be cool to get a cast. As an adult, its complete ass.

One final thing ( and please forgive me for being politically in-expedient for a second, but its true so Im saying it), Ireland for some reason only has the retard-kind of crutches, and nothing else. By retard-kind I mean like the ones Timmy uses in South Park, or the kids in Jerrys telethons; those elbow prop up metal kinds, where it hooks around your forearm, and it looks like I should be wearing a helmet. Unbelievable, these things are awkward as feck, Id take the good ol North American armpit crutches any day. I wonder if its because the Irish Nation Medical board thinks they are saving money by going this route... along with the stereotype image I have, as Jil would say, ...its bullshit.

Happy December everyone!