I'm the first to admit, I'm a wuss. Your typical tear-jerker (of the movie variety, that is) is more than capable of turning me into a sobbing mess. Haven't seen Toy Story 3, so can't comment. But Disney's Beauty and Beast did for me years ago, in a crowded cinema, even as my then four year old daughter and her mum remained dry-eyed, untouched and vaguely embarassed on my behalf. Moulin Rouge did it for me (again) the other night, and even the death of Tiny Tim in A Christmas Carol (the Muppets' version, that is) gets me every Christmas.
But that's really about it. I'm otherwise fairly resiliant. I've taken knocks and bumps, endured the agony of repeated cracked ribs, a broken nose and even managed to fracture the fifth metatarsel in my left foot the other day all without the vaguest swelling of the tear ducts.
But that's really about it. I'm otherwise fairly resiliant. I've taken knocks and bumps, endured the agony of repeated cracked ribs, a broken nose and even managed to fracture the fifth metatarsel in my left foot the other day all without the vaguest swelling of the tear ducts. However, the impact of even partial imobility and the dependence it brings I really didn't reckon on.
I confess, the novelty of hopping around on crutches is beginning to now wear thin after a couple of days. My hips are complaining from bearing all my weight on one leg, and my palms are bruised stupid from carrying my body weight through each swing (definate design flaw in the crutches there I think!). However, it's the dependence on others for the silliest of things that's grinding.
Been trying to work out how to get a coffee from the kitchen to the desk in my office without actually crawling along the floor. The last attempt involved crutches in one hand and a sort of shuffle along on my good leg, a bit like walking a heavy speaker or a freezer or something. Hopping with the support of one crutch, as previously discovered, makes keeping the coffee in the cup problematic, and you can't use two crutches (requiring two hands) and still carry a mug of coffee.
So I tried the shuffle.
Slow. And ultimately doomed to a fall. Coffee everywhere, dignity washed away with it. Humorous, I guess, from the outside looking in. Vexing to a number of friends in the office who would have just fetched me the damn coffee had I just asked and instead find themselves picking me up off the floor and mopping up coffee stains.
And ultimately trivial. A foot in plaster is the impending inconvenience of what, six weeks? And only partially disabling, my independence and dignity still mostly intact. But the failure to make it back to the desk, coffee in mug, by myself pretty much put me close to tears for a moment there.
I confess, the novelty of hopping around on crutches is beginning to now wear thin after a couple of days. My hips are complaining from bearing all my weight on one leg, and my palms are bruised stupid from carrying my body weight through each swing (definate design flaw in the crutches there I think!). However, it's the dependence on others for the silliest of things that's grinding.
Been trying to work out how to get a coffee from the kitchen to the desk in my office without actually crawling along the floor. The last attempt involved crutches in one hand and a sort of shuffle along on my good leg, a bit like walking a heavy speaker or a freezer or something. Hopping with the support of one crutch, as previously discovered, makes keeping the coffee in the cup problematic, and you can't use two crutches (requiring two hands) and still carry a mug of coffee.
So I tried the shuffle.
Slow. And ultimately doomed to a fall. Coffee everywhere, dignity washed away with it. Humorous, I guess, from the outside looking in. Vexing to a number of friends in the office who would have just fetched me the damn coffee had I just asked and instead find themselves picking me up off the floor and mopping up coffee stains.
And ultimately trivial. A foot in plaster is the impending inconvenience of what, six weeks? And only partially disabling, my independence and dignity still mostly intact. But the failure to make it back to the desk, coffee in mug, by myself pretty much put me close to tears for a moment there. Pathetic really.
Need to get over myself.
Need to go buy a flask ....
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