A Step in the Wrong Direction

My left ankle turned, launching my body across the pavers. I assured everyone that my back was okay as John flashed brilliant light at my eyes, looking for signs of concussion. OMG! That was a stupid move. I was walking and twisting while throwing pithy comments to friends behind me with great abandon. There was no blood, torn clothes or bruises, only humbling red faced embarrassment. Attempting to laugh it off, I limped to the car but kept silent about my left groin muscle, which felt like a snapped rubber band.

Thirty minutes later lifting my left leg brought on ballistic pain as I struggled to get out of the car. Only hinging over at the hip, sliding my feet sideways in unison, made moving possible. What the f**k have I done to myself?

I refused a trip to the emergency room. It was Saturday night and I wasn’t going to spend hours sitting on a hard chair under glaring lights, waiting for gunshot wounds and heart attacks to be cleared first. Beyond unbearable I told John, crying as I flopped into bed and hoped for a Sunday morning miracle. If I didn’t move, it wouldn’t hurt.

No miracle presented itself, but John bought me crutches with coffee on the side. A YouTube video explained the basics so in minutes, I was hobbling about the house, until a Monday morning appointment with my doctor. Her diagnosis sent me into a panicked spin. The x-ray confirmed a fracture in my pelvis. It was small; she said. Shit. What else could go wrong?

Good news! My spine stayed intact. Those titanium rods and screws kept vertebrae aligned. Bad News! A pelvis fracture can’t be mended like a broken arm; physical therapy and patience are the only cure, the latter of which I was, and still am, in very short supply.

For eight weeks, three times a week, I stretched and strengthened while the bone healed. I walked using crutches, then graduated to one crutch, and then a cane. At ten weeks, I was walking without aides but combined PT with beach walks.

Finally, I sat, stood and wrangled myself into and out the car without pain or stiffness. Mission accomplished! Normal life could resume. I was looking forward to Pilates, a gentle approach to building core and stretching muscles using enigmatic machines called ‘reformers’. Splendid, I thought. My body could use some reforming.