Wheelchair Lessons

I have had five weeks now of being non-weight-bearing.  That means not setting my foot to the ground, allowing bones to knit after surgery.  Around the house, I’ve been on a knee-scooter and zimmer frame.  Outside, in a wheelchair.  

I haven’t taken any chances.

Dawn said “I think every teenager should have to spend a spell in a wheelchair as part of their education.”

It has certainly been interesting.  I don’t know quite how to react when cheery strangers look at my plaster cast and ask “What have you been doing to yourself?” 

It reminds me of those times in pregnancy when somebody says “Can I put my hand on your bump?”  I’m all ready to resent these intrusions. 

But actually, these are usually the same people who make sure I am okay.  The majority don’t intrude, but neither do they check to see if there’s a wheelchair just behind them as they let the door swing in my face.

On a personal level, I have had to juggle patience, ingenuity and risk in a whole new way.  Stuck every day in the house, small housekeeping issues catch my eye.  Can I be patient and wait until Nigel has a moment to deal with them, or can I find a safe(-ish) way to reach/clean/lift it myself?  

I have discovered that I am a one-legged acrobat and a champion nag, but not terribly patient…. Definitely an education!