Crutches are Not Fun, and New Yorkers are Nosy (in a mostly good way)

Last Friday, I had a terrible day. After having a not-so-great day at work, my friend and I decided to go and have a drink in the New York Botanical Gardens. It was a beautiful day, and we needed to unwind a little. My plan was to sit for an hour and then go home, where I had errands to run and other things to do.

The Garden Cafe was in sight. We had turned the corner onto the little sidewalk that leads up to it. And then ... my ankle bent and I fell over. That's right. I didn't even make it to the wine. I fell on the way to it. Not fair. At first I thought I'd be fine - that the pain would pass in a second - and then I saw a balloon forming on my ankle. And I think I screamed. It hurt - oh, so much.

People were very helpful. Some of the cafe customers, one of whom was a physical therapist, came over and brought a chair and got help. Security was called. Transportation was arranged ... but the ER was in my immediate future. Incidentally, we had to wait a bit for transportation, because the security person was otherwise occupied evicting someone from the gardens who had been publicly urinating. Lovely. Good old NYC.

So I got a (read this in a sarcastic tone) fun ambulance ride for the second time in my life, and got to spend the next four hours in the ER at Saint Barnabas in the Bronx. I will say this - that ER was surprisingly efficient, as ER's go, and I speak from some experience, both my emergencies and my trips keeping friends company. I was there for about four hours, and my friend was able to stay with me, for which I was very grateful. Things kept happening, though. I was checked in, examined, medicated (good old Motrin), x-rayed, etc. Not too much waiting in between things, for which I was pretty grateful. Someone did mistakenly check off on my chart that I was African American at one point, which does not inspire a great deal of confidence in that person's powers of observation, but the mistake was soon corrected.

The results of the x-rays came. It was a bad sprain, and I was not to put any weight on it for a week or so (and no hiking for a few months! And the weather is finally perfect for it!). I'm a little confused, actually, because the written instructions I was given say to wait until I see the podiatrist at my follow up appointment, but that isn't until May 7. Well over a week. But the doctor said a week. And it matters, because I have a busy weekend coming up and I REALLY hate crutches. Hate them. I know I'm really very lucky because this could have been much worse. Some people have to put up with crutches for weeks or even months, and some people have permanent difficulty walking. So in that way I'm very fortunate. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to complain about how much crutches suck in the meantime.

Crutches suck. First, my cab ride home after going to the hospital was ridiculously expensive. I'm almost sure I got the "crutches rate" - in other words, I had no choice about taking the cab because I wasn't about to attempt the subway five minutes after being given the things. Also - my upper body strength leaves a lot to be desired, so my arms have been killing me. They hurt worse than the ankle does. So this makes it really hard to go very far on the crutches. I've been taking a lot of cabs.

I didn't leave my apartment for the first two days. I live in a second-floor walk-up, and stairs are hard. I'm getting better at them, and down is easier than up, but I have to go really slowly and it's scary. I can't sweep my kitchen floor and it's driving me crazy. And I did manage to scrub out my bathtub (not that I can take a shower or anything) the other night, but I ended up covered in bleach stains (it was almost worth it, though - the tub looks so much better).

On Monday, I decided that I needed to wash my hair. I couldn't get in the shower and do this myself - I can't get water on the whole apparatus my ankle is wrapped in. So I called a car service to take me 12 blocks. I had lunch, and then hobbled another couple of blocks to the hair salon, where I got a cut and wash. Complete bliss.

So here's what I've noticed about being out on the street with crutches. New Yorkers, erroneously thought by many Americans to be unfriendly, will actually take any opportunity to talk to people. Also, New Yorkers love to give advice and share their opinions. The crutches made me an easy mark for this. They were a conversation piece. I had people stop and ask me what happened. People offered to help. People told me I was using them wrong. I ran into another woman on crutches and we bonded. This was all in about four blocks as I limped/hopped/hobbled down the street. One guy was particularly helpful - he told me the bar on the crutches I was gripping with my hands needed to be higher, which would make things a little easier on my arms. I suspected he was right, but I didn't want to take them apart on my own and not be able to fix them, so a colleague ended up helping me at work on Tuesday, and it is better.

Going to work on Tuesday was my first opportunity to use public transportation since I got hurt. I got a car service to the bus. The bus to the Metro North at 125th Street, and the Metro North to the Bronx. It was a huge pain, but I was happy I did it. I normally would take the subway to work, but there are no handicap accessible subway stations near me in Queens, or near my work in the Bronx. My best bet was bus and commuter rail, and those things did work out all right. But I have tremendous sympathy for those who are actually disabled and rely on public transportation - a lot of local subway stations simply don't cut it as far as accessibility. Also, while most people are really nice and want to help, some people are just plain clueless. On my return Metro North trip, a woman hurried to get onto the train in front of me (fine - I can't blame her for that) but then grabbed the seat nearest the door, that I had been eying for myself (it was one of the four-seater ones, where I'd have room to put my crutches). I was in a bad mood at that point, and my arms really hurt, so rather than asking nicely for her to move, I gave her a kind of evil look and said "Really? Thanks," and started to move past. She got up. It wasn't my finest moment, and she was probably just clueless, but I was not feeling super patient.

But most New Yorkers really do just want to help. The hair salon said I could come back just for a wash, which is awesome. I'll probably do that today.

This is also, in some ways, rather ironic for me. I am now the slowest person on the block, whereas I used to be the person who got impatient with people who strolled leisurely along and took up the entire sidewalk (to be fair, I made an exception for the elderly and people with crutches, canes, wheelchairs, etc. My impatience more had to do with people who were just merrily chatting away on their phones or with their friends and wouldn't let anyone else get by them). Anyway, now everyone is faster than I am, and it is super annoying. I think it also really irks my latent competitive streak - I have a compulsive need to move faster than everybody else when I'm out walking or even running for the train or whatever. I know it's weird. I think it's symptomatic of living in a large city and not wanting to get swallowed up by a crowd or something. I know other people with the same quirk.

But as long as all goes well, I won't be on the crutches much longer. And really, I don't have a lot to legitimately complain about (again, though - that won't stop me. New Yorkers like to complain, and I've been here for a decade, so I count myself amongst the ranks of New Yorkers). I have learned a lot from this experience though, and I'm still learning. But in the meantime - crutches are not fun, and I'm glad New Yorkers are nosy.

 

I can't carry stuff around for the most part, so I've had to be creative. I have my travel money-pouch for my money, phone, and keys. No purses for awhile!