My Life As A 3-Year-Old

It’s been 2 weeks {my, how time flies when you’re having fun} since my bike crash when I broke my collarbone.

In the blink of an eye, I regressed from a highly active and independent woman of mature years to life as a 3-year-old.  The abrupt transition has not been easy.  I’ve been stubborn and determined to continue life as usual only to be confronted with a general lack of ability.

It’s been one big reality check.

(1991)    I think I can, I think I can …

Showering

Right from the start, I insisted on showering – on my own.  It’s been painstakingly slow – key word is “pain” – but I’ve managed in an *approximate* kind of way.

Drying off has been a completely different challenge.  Have you ever tried to dry yourself with one arm … while keeping the other shoulder as immobile as possible?

I eventually had to give in to being helped because I knew getting dressed while wet wasn’t going to be pretty.

(1986)     I guess I have to trust you …

Getting Dressed

Having someone else dress you is – well, humbling.  Toss in an extra large serving of frustration and you’ve got the right idea.  Now I understand why 3-year-olds get rather grumpy while being dressed.

For years I’ve half-joked that I needed to stay healthy because Gilles would have no tolerance or patience to handle an invalid.   I imagined Gilles sticking me out on an ice flow when I was no longer able to care for myself.

Photo from Barrie.CTVnews.ca

Happily, it seems I’ve badly maligned this poor man because he’s been a saint.  (shhh … I don’t really want him to know I said that).

I have issues with labels and seams being “just right” otherwise I itch and fidget … not to mention the velcro on the shoulder harness I have to wear while the bone is healing. Not once has he been less than accommodating to the various adjustments and corrections needed … although I suspect he’s rolled his eyes a few times behind my back.

Yesterday however, was a major milestone day – I could dress myself!  {Wild jubilation was heard throughout the land}

To sweeten it even more, I now have enough range of motion in my shoulder that I could finally zip up and button a pair of pants!

(1996)     No – not this range of motion.  Ever.

Perhaps there are some of you who would happily stay in sweats and yoga pants if given half a chance.  I’m not one of them.  I felt particularly conspicuous when out in public.  I think I’ll be less judgmental in the future about some of the attire worn by others.  One just doesn’t know the challenges they are facing.

I’m celebrating these victories as they happen.  True – I still can’t tie my shoelaces, but I’ll take any progress I can get.

Sleeping

I’m a poor sleeper – always have been – so it’s been a relief to discover I can, and do, sleep in spite of being stuck like a turtle on my back.  I can lie down just fine … but getting back up has been brutal.

(1992)      {sigh} … to be able to sleep on my side again.  Any side.

 

It’s been a trying time.  I’ve needed help with everything from cutting my food to buckling my seat-belt in the car, but mostly I’ve been frustrated at being held hostage at home because I haven’t been able to drive.  My body may be broken, but my need to be out-and-about hasn’t diminished at all.

I like to believe I’m recovering well, so surely it can’t be much longer before freedom comes again!

(1990)     I’m free!  I’m free!