Yes, I broke my ankle and it changed my life. I can admit this now. At the time however, I really didn't believe all the articles and comments I read by others suffering the same predicament. They said it would be hard. Very hard! They said it would be depressing, you'd feel lonely, and the inability to do pretty much anything for yourself would take you to the brink of insanity. I mocked them. "It's just a little bit of pain", I thought. "I've been through much worse than this. I have given birth naturally, without any pain killers whatsoever (not by choice mind you). I have had my wisdom teeth removed, gallbladder removed, and have dealt with many sprains, pulled muscles, bumps & bruises due to my love of mountain biking and rollerblading." I figured this would be a piece of cake. Besides, they gave me Percocet!
It all started on a sunny day in May 2013. I was painting the outside of my house, and had been at it for about six hours. I was tired. I should have known better and stopped, but I'm also very stubborn and just wanted it done. So I was up on a ladder, reaching as high as I possibly could, and the ladder began to tip. In that moment I did not panic. It wasn't the first time I had fallen off a ladder or many other things. I waited until the ladder was about half way to the ground and jumped off. Unfortunately, although one of my feet landed on flat solid ground, the other didn't. It landed on the side of a ditch, twisted, and snapped back.
I laid on the ground for a few minutes assessing the pain, but when I tried to stand up I realized I wasn't able to put any weight on it. I suppose that should have been the first sign that it was broken but I honestly believed it was just a very bad sprain. I had sprained my ankles before. The pain seemed pretty much the same. After an hour or so and a lot of convincing by my family I took the trip down to Emergency and had it x-rayed. The doctor confirmed it had been broken on both sides and informed me that I would require surgery. They wrapped it up in a temporary, but extremely heavy cast, prescribed me pain killers, and sent me home.
At the time I was living with my fiancée but since he travelled a lot for work it seemed best that I stay with my Mom and niece until after my surgery. I was not allowed to put weight on the foot and so needed people around who could take care of me. And it was this fact alone that began my transformation.
It is well known in my circle that I do not like asking for help. I am independent and stubborn, although must admit it's usually the stubborn that causes me to do everything myself (like painting my house in the first place). Understandably it wasn't easy for me to have to rely on both my Mom and niece for all the basic necessities of life (food, clean clothing, help with the shower). My niece, being the type of person who will help anyone without complaint and never say no, ended up with the brunt of it because it was much easier to ask her than my Mom. Being my Mom, naturally her help always came with advice as well which in my pain and drug-induced state was harder for me to handle. Of course, I recognize that was more due to my nature than hers. Both of them did a wonderful job of taking care of me, and without realizing it helped make it easier for me to now ask for help when I need it. Well, except when I'm angry. My previous self seems to still kick in when I get mad. Old habits die hard.
It took about a week for my surgery to be scheduled. I remember asking the doctor before being wheeled into the operating room how badly it would hurt after the surgery. He said it would be very painful so I asked, "As painful as when I first broke it?" and he said, "Yes". LIAR! It was twice as painful, and I now could tell it was broken. I stayed with my Mom and niece for another two weeks after. During that time my fiancée would come visit whenever he could and spend time with me. Most of my days were spent laying in bed with my foot propped on pillows, so his company was more than appreciated. At least until one day when I was at the lowest of my lows. I had to stop taking the pain killers a few days after my surgery due to complications (let's just say that doctors really should prescribe a laxative with those nasty percocets) and was having a particularly bad day. I was crying and feeling sorry for myself and at one point turned to him and said, "This is just really, really hard!" His response took me by surprise. What I was expecting was for him to put his arms around me and say, "It's OK. You're strong and can get through it. Tomorrow is another day!" or something to that effect but what I got was, "You know this is really hard on me too!"
I must admit that in my stupor I probably was being a little selfish, and not paying much attention to how others around me were feeling, but I wasn't expecting this. He didn't like having to come visit me, the drive was about 45 minutes between our houses, and wanted me to come home. Now perhaps in this moment I should have thought about how selfish I was being not to take this into consideration, but it's not exactly how I reacted. I felt guilty, for sure and I came home but this one sentence, uttered at a time when I needed reassurance and love, started me on a thought process I could not come back from.
Coming home didn't help! Although he did a lot for me he didn't do it as my niece had, without complaint. He did all the cooking, whereas prior it was normally me who had. He did my laundry and helped me navigate around the house. He went out and got me everything I needed when I asked him to. However, he also yelled at me when I would say I was unable to do something, left me on a Friday night alone to attend a party because, and I quote, "This week has been really hard on me doing everything for you and I really need a break", and our house was basically in shambles because he was unable to keep up. Yes, I know this seems to paint a picture of him as a horrible person and me of a person who is just slightly jaded but that is not my intent. He rarely ever yelled at me, always wanted me to accompany him wherever he was going, and what I came to learn was that he probably did more for me during that time than he had for anyone else in his entire life. For him, he did a lot and it was very hard. And although it was difficult for me to understand and appreciate at the time, I do now. It took me a while to get there, but I am grateful that he tried his best. But was his best good enough for me? This is a question I now had to answer.
It took a little over a year before I was able to answer that question. I began to look back on our entire relationship and realized that it had always been this way. Undoubtedly I had done much more for him, on a daily basis, than he had ever done for me. I started to feel angry about this and was very open about it each and every time he asked me for something. Our relationship went downhill, and at one point I honestly believed I hated him. I was miserable, and took this out on him in ways I am shameful about. In time I was able to recognize this and apologized for my behaviour. No matter how unfair I may have felt our relationship to be there was no reason to be so mean. We decided to try counselling, and although I was hopeful this would repair the damage done, my hope was in vain and probably the only thing that kept us together for a couple months more after the therapy. Now that I saw the life I had built for myself I just couldn't go back to it. My independent and stubborn nature had allowed me to be comfortable in a relationship that was far from quid pro quo and one that lacked the most important necessity of any relationship - Friendship! In reality, this was probably more my fault than it was his. My eyes were opened to a different reality, not his, and it was me who felt I deserved more than what I had been given. How could I expect him to magically change into a person he just wasn't? He liked our relationship as it was. It was what he had been looking for. I was the one, who after 7 years, was wanting change. He is who he is, which wasn't bad but just completely different than who I am. We shared very few commonalities, and although opposites attract initially I now believe this doesn't always mean the magnetism is bound to last. Especially when one person begins to change.
So I must thank my ankle for this! I was able to leave this relationship without much regret, hurt or anger because I dealt with most of it during the relationship which for me is a big accomplishment. I was confident in my decision and haven't looked back. Moving forward has actually never been easier. In fact, I have come now to a life much less stressful than it had been for years.
In addition to the above mentioned major life change, there were other things I can contribute solely to my ankle break. I left my job of 10 years, one I was very unhappy with, and started with my present company about a year ago. It's still a new experience for me, but I am learning every day which I love, and both the company and people I work with are great! I have also began taking much better care of myself than I had been in the past. I was non-weight bearing for a total of 7 weeks, and then it took many more months of therapy before I was able to properly walk again. I was unable to do any strenuous exercise for the first year and gained more weight than ever. The weight in turn caused more problems for my weakened leg and ankle which has forced me to eat better and exercise in order to lose the extra pounds. I have lost my post ankle break weight and am now working on losing some more to keep me within a healthy limit. It's been a great motivator, and sometimes gives me no choice. My skinny little ankles haven't taken kindly to all the plates and screws it now possesses, unfortunately.
Oh, but I can now predict the rain!
No more days of forgetting the umbrella!
And the best part was? I got out of painting the rest of my house thanks to all my wonderful family members who felt sorry for me.
I didn't even have to ask for the help!
It all started on a sunny day in May 2013. I was painting the outside of my house, and had been at it for about six hours. I was tired. I should have known better and stopped, but I'm also very stubborn and just wanted it done. So I was up on a ladder, reaching as high as I possibly could, and the ladder began to tip. In that moment I did not panic. It wasn't the first time I had fallen off a ladder or many other things. I waited until the ladder was about half way to the ground and jumped off. Unfortunately, although one of my feet landed on flat solid ground, the other didn't. It landed on the side of a ditch, twisted, and snapped back.
I laid on the ground for a few minutes assessing the pain, but when I tried to stand up I realized I wasn't able to put any weight on it. I suppose that should have been the first sign that it was broken but I honestly believed it was just a very bad sprain. I had sprained my ankles before. The pain seemed pretty much the same. After an hour or so and a lot of convincing by my family I took the trip down to Emergency and had it x-rayed. The doctor confirmed it had been broken on both sides and informed me that I would require surgery. They wrapped it up in a temporary, but extremely heavy cast, prescribed me pain killers, and sent me home.
At the time I was living with my fiancée but since he travelled a lot for work it seemed best that I stay with my Mom and niece until after my surgery. I was not allowed to put weight on the foot and so needed people around who could take care of me. And it was this fact alone that began my transformation.
It is well known in my circle that I do not like asking for help. I am independent and stubborn, although must admit it's usually the stubborn that causes me to do everything myself (like painting my house in the first place). Understandably it wasn't easy for me to have to rely on both my Mom and niece for all the basic necessities of life (food, clean clothing, help with the shower). My niece, being the type of person who will help anyone without complaint and never say no, ended up with the brunt of it because it was much easier to ask her than my Mom. Being my Mom, naturally her help always came with advice as well which in my pain and drug-induced state was harder for me to handle. Of course, I recognize that was more due to my nature than hers. Both of them did a wonderful job of taking care of me, and without realizing it helped make it easier for me to now ask for help when I need it. Well, except when I'm angry. My previous self seems to still kick in when I get mad. Old habits die hard.
It took about a week for my surgery to be scheduled. I remember asking the doctor before being wheeled into the operating room how badly it would hurt after the surgery. He said it would be very painful so I asked, "As painful as when I first broke it?" and he said, "Yes". LIAR! It was twice as painful, and I now could tell it was broken. I stayed with my Mom and niece for another two weeks after. During that time my fiancée would come visit whenever he could and spend time with me. Most of my days were spent laying in bed with my foot propped on pillows, so his company was more than appreciated. At least until one day when I was at the lowest of my lows. I had to stop taking the pain killers a few days after my surgery due to complications (let's just say that doctors really should prescribe a laxative with those nasty percocets) and was having a particularly bad day. I was crying and feeling sorry for myself and at one point turned to him and said, "This is just really, really hard!" His response took me by surprise. What I was expecting was for him to put his arms around me and say, "It's OK. You're strong and can get through it. Tomorrow is another day!" or something to that effect but what I got was, "You know this is really hard on me too!"
I must admit that in my stupor I probably was being a little selfish, and not paying much attention to how others around me were feeling, but I wasn't expecting this. He didn't like having to come visit me, the drive was about 45 minutes between our houses, and wanted me to come home. Now perhaps in this moment I should have thought about how selfish I was being not to take this into consideration, but it's not exactly how I reacted. I felt guilty, for sure and I came home but this one sentence, uttered at a time when I needed reassurance and love, started me on a thought process I could not come back from.
Coming home didn't help! Although he did a lot for me he didn't do it as my niece had, without complaint. He did all the cooking, whereas prior it was normally me who had. He did my laundry and helped me navigate around the house. He went out and got me everything I needed when I asked him to. However, he also yelled at me when I would say I was unable to do something, left me on a Friday night alone to attend a party because, and I quote, "This week has been really hard on me doing everything for you and I really need a break", and our house was basically in shambles because he was unable to keep up. Yes, I know this seems to paint a picture of him as a horrible person and me of a person who is just slightly jaded but that is not my intent. He rarely ever yelled at me, always wanted me to accompany him wherever he was going, and what I came to learn was that he probably did more for me during that time than he had for anyone else in his entire life. For him, he did a lot and it was very hard. And although it was difficult for me to understand and appreciate at the time, I do now. It took me a while to get there, but I am grateful that he tried his best. But was his best good enough for me? This is a question I now had to answer.
It took a little over a year before I was able to answer that question. I began to look back on our entire relationship and realized that it had always been this way. Undoubtedly I had done much more for him, on a daily basis, than he had ever done for me. I started to feel angry about this and was very open about it each and every time he asked me for something. Our relationship went downhill, and at one point I honestly believed I hated him. I was miserable, and took this out on him in ways I am shameful about. In time I was able to recognize this and apologized for my behaviour. No matter how unfair I may have felt our relationship to be there was no reason to be so mean. We decided to try counselling, and although I was hopeful this would repair the damage done, my hope was in vain and probably the only thing that kept us together for a couple months more after the therapy. Now that I saw the life I had built for myself I just couldn't go back to it. My independent and stubborn nature had allowed me to be comfortable in a relationship that was far from quid pro quo and one that lacked the most important necessity of any relationship - Friendship! In reality, this was probably more my fault than it was his. My eyes were opened to a different reality, not his, and it was me who felt I deserved more than what I had been given. How could I expect him to magically change into a person he just wasn't? He liked our relationship as it was. It was what he had been looking for. I was the one, who after 7 years, was wanting change. He is who he is, which wasn't bad but just completely different than who I am. We shared very few commonalities, and although opposites attract initially I now believe this doesn't always mean the magnetism is bound to last. Especially when one person begins to change.
So I must thank my ankle for this! I was able to leave this relationship without much regret, hurt or anger because I dealt with most of it during the relationship which for me is a big accomplishment. I was confident in my decision and haven't looked back. Moving forward has actually never been easier. In fact, I have come now to a life much less stressful than it had been for years.
In addition to the above mentioned major life change, there were other things I can contribute solely to my ankle break. I left my job of 10 years, one I was very unhappy with, and started with my present company about a year ago. It's still a new experience for me, but I am learning every day which I love, and both the company and people I work with are great! I have also began taking much better care of myself than I had been in the past. I was non-weight bearing for a total of 7 weeks, and then it took many more months of therapy before I was able to properly walk again. I was unable to do any strenuous exercise for the first year and gained more weight than ever. The weight in turn caused more problems for my weakened leg and ankle which has forced me to eat better and exercise in order to lose the extra pounds. I have lost my post ankle break weight and am now working on losing some more to keep me within a healthy limit. It's been a great motivator, and sometimes gives me no choice. My skinny little ankles haven't taken kindly to all the plates and screws it now possesses, unfortunately.
Oh, but I can now predict the rain!
No more days of forgetting the umbrella!
And the best part was? I got out of painting the rest of my house thanks to all my wonderful family members who felt sorry for me.
I didn't even have to ask for the help!