Anxiety, Depression, Frustration

When your power or control to take care of yourself is taken away from you so abruptly it is incredibly defeating.  For a week and a half after the fall, I was by myself.  I'd never had an injury that kept me from living my normal life.  I struggled so much trying to figure out how I could get to the kitchen, make food, and then take the food somewhere to eat it - all on crutches.  At first I wasn't really eating.  I'd put a small back pack on and go to the kitchen for "supplies."  Anything that could go in the bag without spilling.  At this point, I was not strong at all.  My place isn't that big.  It is maybe 25 feet to the kitchen.  By the time I got in there I was totally exhausted and sweating already.  I am a weakling.  I've never played sports and I don't go to the gym. 

Eventually I figured out that I could put a plate of food on the bar, hop around to the living room, reach for the plate, set it on something closer to where I was going to sit, and hop until I got there. 

After exhausting all of my energy to do simple tasks, like bathing, I would break down and cry.  I would sob and sob like my best friend died or my boyfriend broke up with me.  I didn't bother getting dressed anymore because, what was the point?  I would pull my hair back into the same rubberband every day and just cope.  But I wasn't coping.  I was so sad and defeated.  I was doing it on my own, yes, but I felt like I shouldn't have to.  I wished for a partner or a family member to come help me out and keep me company. 

My poor dogs didn't know what to do.  They knew I was hurt so they were fearful and afraid.  They clinged onto me (they're small).

Eventually a light clicked on in my head and I figured out that if I put chairs everywhere I needed to be I could rest and stay there awhile before having to leave again.  Yes, I figured out how to drag a chair behind me while on crutches. 

I had anxiety about the upcoming surgery.  I knew my ankle wasn't going to heal on its own, but I had a really bad feeling about it.  I've been under anesthesia a couple times now and have undergone major surgery, but this one was really getting to me for some reason.  It wasn't about the size of the insicions and how ugly my leg would be or the pain.  I knew the pain would be less afterward because I'd be put back together again.  I just thought I wasn't going to wake up.  I thought, this is too many times being put under.  Something bad is going to happen. 

My mom flew down for the surgery and was there the entire time.  She also stayed practically the whole evening afterward just to make sure I was ok. 

I get frustrated because every day I just want to stand on my own two feet and walk, but I can't.  It takes me forever to do a damn thing.  I'm embarassed that I use a walker and a wheelchair.  I converted to the walker after surgery when the physical therapist proved to me that it was much easier to get around with.  I am embarassed by the wheelchair because I believe it shows people I am too out of shape to carry my own weight on crutches. 

The hardest part is letting go of the power and control you once had.  I am very independent.  I like things done my way.  I have had to let that all go because I am at the complete mercy of others.  My mom is leaving to go back home in a few days and I'll be all alone again, but it honestly is getting easier.  The ankle hurts less and I'm getting a little bit of strength in my arms.  My mom found a neighbor that wasn't using their parking space in the back of the complex so I can borrow it until I can go down stairs again.  I drove once the other day, but I was pushed to the car by wheelchair.  It's a struggle - especially when you feel like everyone is looking at you like, "why can't she come back to work on crutches?" because they don't know how painfully hard it is.