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The final
week of May, while mopping, I stepped back onto a slick spot and fell.
Actually, I did a slow motion slip and slide that twisted my left knee as I
went down. Water spewed over the kitchen floor and doused me entirely. I sat in
frustrated sogginess and complained loudly as I sopped up the mess. By evening,
all I needed was a couple of Tylenol to ease the pain. The next morning, my
knee didn’t nag at me one single bit.
For the
next week, I knelt to pull weeds and rebuild our fire pit. I raked leaves from
both yards and filled half-a-dozen bags. I detailed both of our cars inside and
out, which meant hauling out the ladder and going
up-and-down-up-and-down-up-and-down since I’m too short to reach the tops of
either car. I added a thirty minute walk to my daily routine because the gyms
were closed indefinitely.
Almost a
week to the day of my undignified mopping fail, I decided to do an extra-long
walk through our neighborhood. The morning’s light filtered through trees
softly. Many spring flowers lingered in neighbor’s gardens, and roses scented
the air. I meandered at a slower pace as I rounded the corner of one street to
enter the final stretch of my stroll. I took one step down and heard a soft pfffft from my left knee. I stepped one
time into excruciating pain. I eased onto my right foot and attempted another
left leg tread. Severe pain seared through me, and I ungracefully lowered to
the ground. I knew immediately not to put any more weight on my knee. Instead,
I called my husband. Fortunately, he’s now working remotely and could rush to
my side. I love our neighborhood! Within two minutes, a concerned lady stopped
her car and offered aid, or at least to sit with me until David arrived. As I
could already see his car, I waved her on.
My knee, as
I sat on the ground, didn’t hurt. I assured David, when he arrived, that it
couldn’t be that bad because it already felt better. Using David as a crutch, I
attempted to put the slightest amount of weight on my knee. The pain returned tenfold!
David
carried me into the house from the car, we did a quick Google search on what
needed to be done to immediately for my knee, and I began RICE for an entire
week followed by a second week of heat instead of ice on my knee. At first, I
needed help with everything. I repurposed a small, wheeled office chair into a
temporary wheelchair to make it into the bathroom. For two weeks, I tried my
best to keep all weight off of my knee. I didn’t go to a clinic because I already
had my annual checkup scheduled with my doctor. I decided that if my knee still
looked bad after two weeks, she’d decide the next step.
Exactly two
weeks from the injury, I hobbled into the doctor’s office wearing a brace I’d
used from a previous tumble (down the stairs at work years ago). On the
examining table, the PA moved my knee in every possible direction, all without
pain! My residual discomfort only happened when I put weight on my knee. She
advised me to make “slow and steady” my new mantra. The knee probably has
arthritis. The twisting fall followed by a week of major chores and long walks
simply made it scream, “No more!”
The pace
proved to be extremely slow and steady. If I kept my knee bent too long while
sitting at my computer, it whined. I couldn’t water the entire back yard
without wearing a brace—and then could only do half of it before needing to sit
down. At the three month mark, I finally put away the brace and compression
sleeve I relied on heavily for months. I rolled up the ACE wrap, used nightly,
and shifted back to sleeping without a pillow under my knee. Every day, I find
myself able to do something more or longer than the day before. The other
night, I realized that I sat on the couch with my knee bent, tucked under me. I
shifted it immediately, but felt smug satisfaction that I have that range of
motion back.
I set a
goal for next week to walk down the street to the STOP sign and circle back.
That’s only five houses down and then back. It will be the longest trek I’ll
have done since June. Once I accomplish that small feat for a week, I’ll try to
make it around our block as it offers enough of a slope to get a full picture
of my recovery.
During all
of this pain and suffering, my admiration has grown for friends and family
members who truly suffer on a daily basis with conditions that won’t go away by
gentling your routine for a few months. I marvel at their strength and endurance
as they face each day.
Copyright 2020 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman
I can’t pinpoint any specific reason
why my last blog post occurred five months ago. Having spare time, the usual
culprit for not writing, definitely doesn’t enter the picture. Since March,
like so many people worldwide, I’ve hunkered down to stay safe and stay well.
My Spring Break extended first by a week and then a month until finally word
came out that schools wouldn’t reopen at all. For the first time in my adult
life, I didn’t have obligations to an employer nor responsibilities as a
caregiver. With this unexpected luxury of abundant time and no accountability,
my days should have shifted to my passions—writing and photography. Yet I
pursued neither.
I spent my days searching out scientific
information on COVID-19 while keeping a hawk’s view on data as it shifted through
the world. My admiration for this infection grew with each scientific paper I
read as it’s a wondrous virus that has a high infection rate, keeps asymptomatic
with many people, and leaves a huge segment of the population with a mild
enough illness that they can proclaim, “It’s no big deal!” This virus’s controlled
by keeping distance from other people, keeping hands clean, and wearing masks.
All very simple things to do to curb its spread unless it becomes politicized
as has happened in the US.
Each day, I do a personal mental well
check. Anxiety? None. Depression? None. Worry? Certainly a tad each time my
husband’s company did a round of layoffs (the last set will occur next week).
Have I fretted over my brother’s status as “essential worker” as he’s employed
at a hospital? Of course. Are these ripples enough to account of my inability
face the blank page and share our experiences as we move onto this unexpected
path? I don’t think so. Nothing we experience right now compares to the challenging
years of care-giving we did with Mom.
And maybe that’s why I don’t feel
the need to share this journey. Mom’s illness compelled me to write every day
as though that tethered me to the world around me. I needed to share the
loneliness and burdens with friends and family in the intimate way my blog
allowed.
Although these months test my resilience, they are only an echo of the life as a long term caregiver.
Copyright 2020 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman
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| Staying Safe and Well |
