Not being able to walk in a conventional manner lets you experience things differently and occasionally brings you some insights. I’m lucky in that my mobility issue is temporary, just a sprained ankle, but the lessons do apply.
Ergonomic question: How do you sit on the toilet without using both legs? Try it by standing at the can, pull up one leg and now you figure out how to get your backside positioned appropriately for waste elimination. You’ll be using the counter, shower rod, shower curtain and anything else in arm’s reach. Even with crutches, the leverage doesn’t work quite right. Now, try to get up and pull up your pants while balancing with both arms propped up by crutches. Remember, you cannot let that one leg touch the ground. Suddenly you need three arms.
A shower is just as fraught, as you can’t readily bring crutches into the shower. You balance on one leg, using the other arm to hold the shower rod, hoping the landlord used sturdy construction mounting it and your shower curtain is very strong. Falls are a constant threat, but so is the irritation of not being able to wash your hair correctly, or perform ablutions with both hands, as you might be used to. Of course, balancing on one leg means you can’t always bend the way you want, to rinse off the way you want. An annoyance, but still something you find out the first time you take a one-legged shower.
Shaving, brushing your teeth and the rest of the morning grooming routine becomes a balancing act. Using crutches to balance means you develop some new muscles very quickly. Crutches, even the best adjusted ones with gobs of foam padding, rub your underarms raw. Your arms, hands and palms get a workout, the muscles around the armpit take a beating, leaving you tired and sore at the end of a day.
I’m used to having my computers in a wheeled bag that I drag behind me when I go into the office, or a client location. My bag weighs about 20 pounds. You can’t have a wheeled bag and use two crutches at the same time. So I swapped most of my gear over to a shoulder bag. I now have 20 pounds hanging off one shoulder and around my hip, carrying my laptops like an old fashioned newspaper bag. Every step with the crutch would bang into the laptops, until I swung the bag around back, resting over the small of my back, to give me room to swing the crutches. Now, I’m off balance, backwards.
Hallways are fun. Inside my apartment there is only one and it isn’t that long, but using the crutches means you take up the whole hallway, side to side. At work, there’s room, and in the common areas of the apartment building, there is just about enough room. In an older house? You might not be able to get around. Stairways would be interesting, but I was lucky enough that I didn’t have to navigate any.
Getting into the car was as fraught as getting onto the toilet. Balance on one leg, squat, swing, drag and use other things to pull you around. Now try to thread the crutches into the car. Fortunately I drive an automatic and my right leg is fine, so locomotion wasn’t a problem.
Parking is another issue. I could have obtained a temporary handicapped sticker for the car. If I had broken something, I certainly would have. Invariably the parking I could get was several dozen yards from where I needed to go, so you reverse the process of getting out of the car. Much like getting off the toilet, you balance, push, pull and cajole your body into standing upright, then organize things so you can get to the store.
Shopping in the store is somewhat normal, except you have no hands free to carry things, or cradle a shopping basket. Shopping carts are pushed forward, then you catch up and push the cart forward again. It takes forever to do.
At least bringing stuff up from the car is easier, as you hang your shopping bags off the crutch handles. Each doorway is a time consuming effort of swapping bags, balancing, putting in the key, or swinging the hydraulic door out of the way, then scooting through before the closer slams the door closed on your head, arm or crutch. I have a new-found appreciation of the handicapped accessible electric doors into stores.
Putting things away when you get the groceries home is easy enough, as you can bounce around on one leg, using the counter for support. Cooking is easy enough, but you do have to make sure you don’t grab at the stove for support. From a wheeling position, things are much different, as you are at the element level and I can see how easy it would be to burn yourself on a daily basis.
Getting into bed, at least from the office chair, is easy enough. Fall out and roll. From a standing position there is the same contortionist act like getting into the car, or onto the can. Getting out of bed, is again, more pulling, pushing and cajoling body parts without enough leverage.
Overall, learning crutches, even for a short while, means relearning how to move, as the gait is unfamiliar, more of a clopping than walking. Keeping the crutches in sync with your bad leg is an exercise in dancing but I suffer from that affliction known as White Boy Disease: I’m so fabulously uncoordinated that I can’t dance. This means that every seventh or eighth step you are out of sync and put all your weight on your bad leg, resulting in muttered curses.
Last week I was needed in Regina for a meeting, which meant flying to Saskatchewan deliberately. I decided to use all facilities available, so my car went into the valet parking at the airport: It means I didn’t have to cane it as far. After clearing security I took full advantage of those golf carts in the concourse. There is a certain desire to do the Queen Elizabeth Royal Wave as you roll by the walking customers. I didn’t but I was sorely tempted. I did enjoy responding to the “those who need more time to board” early call for the flight.
Of course, Air Canada, wanting to pack as many humans into as small a space as possible meant that once I was seated, that was it for the duration. There isn’t enough room to put your leg in a comfortable position. I was in a fair amount of pain by the time we landed, but after gobbling a couple of Advil, I was able to do what needed to be done on the work side of things. Flying back was just as nasty, painful and exhausting.
Today (September 16th) I’m on a cane and have been for close to a week. The ankle takes some weight for reasonable periods of time, but it is still swollen enough to preclude wearing dress shoes. That means wearing dress pants, dress shirt and a pair of running shoes to meetings.
I feel like I spent half my time apologizing or explaining, but that is to be expected. I just wish I had sprained it while having sex with a van full of Tahitian bisexual women on a trampoline. That would be a much more interesting story than falling over a riser due to personal stupidity. Oh well.
So what does it mean in the grand scale of things. First, I do not park in handicapped spaces. I never have, but those spaces are for those who need them, not you or I as able-bodied folks who just want to “dash into the store for a second”. Stay the hell out of the handicapped parking.
Second. Hold the doors for folks on crutches, wheels, or canes. They don’t have the mobility or velocity that you or I take for granted and doors, even with electric openers are difficult to navigate. Show some patience as they can’t move quite as fast as you or I do. A simple “take your time” is much appreciated.
Third. Offer, politely, to help with packages or purchases for someone with mobility issues, as they could use the help. Canes or crutches mean you need an extra arm or two to perform simple retail tasks. But do be sensitive enough to accept if the person doesn’t want help. They’re grown ups and for some people, it is an issue of personal achievement or pride to not accept help. I can appreciate that too.
Fourth. Showering, going to the can or navigating stairs on crutches or with a cane is an exercise in balance and logistics as well as very tiring.
In another week or so, I’ll be fine and the crutches and cane will go into storage. The lessons, however, I will keep in mind. If you can too, then, thanks.
RoadDave 