Glimpsing Disability — Part I
While (unadvisedly) playing racquetball for the first time in twenty years, I sprained an ankle. I didn’t actually know I was injured until I was home, stretched out on the bed waiting for all my old-lady joints to feel normal again. The ankle never went back to normal.
The following morning, a dear friend took me to the ER, where a team of kind people x-rayed, wrapped, and gave me instructions for the care and feeding of my bum ankle. My friend drove me home, got me seated with legs elevated, fed me, and we picked a few tunes to lift my spirits. But eventually I found myself alone, trying to get around on one-leg.
It is my habit, each dawn, to fix a carafe of coffee & chicory, heat milk in a pot on the stove, and enjoy three or four cups of cafe-au-lait while reading email, perusing the news, and awakening synapses with online puzzles. An easy entrance into the day.
But not so easy anymore. My left knee rests on a 4-wheeled walker to keep my weight off the angry ankle, while I stand on the right leg, holding the handles of the walker. To take a step, I push the rolling gizmo ahead with my knee, shift my weight onto my arms, and slide my right foot forward. Repeat as needed.
To get in the fridge, I must reach over the walker, throw open the fridge door and leave it open (I hear Mom’s voice from the grave—“Shut the fridge!”) while I maneuver the walker close enough to reach in and retrieve the milk jug. I put the milk on the walker seat, next to my knee, back up, put the milk on the counter, then return to the fridge to close the door.
And so go the maneuvers to retrieve the coffee from the cupboard, the pot from the pot rack, the cup from the shelf, a ladle for the hot milk, and a spoon rest for the ladle. More maneuvering to put water in the kettle, milk in the pot, etc. The whole routine, which normally takes five minutes, takes closer to half an hour. Just for coffee to start the day.
Once the coffee is made, I return to my bed—the best place to put my feet up and have my coffee cup at my elbow. But getting the coffee from the kitchen to the nightstand is a trial: right knee on walker, grab coffee cup from primary kitchen counter, pivot. Place it on kitchen island. Roll walker three feet. Make a 90 degree turn left. Move coffee from island to secondary counter. Roll walker five feet. Pivot to enter bedroom. Transfer coffee from counter to dresser. Finagle walker onto bedroom carpet. Make 90° left turn. Slide coffee down length of dresser. Roll walker four feet. Move coffee from dresser to desk. Park walker. Steadying my one-legged self on desk, move cup to windowsill. Hop to the bed. Sit. Move coffee cup to nightstand. Finally put my feet up and enjoy now cold coffee.
For me, this is a temporary disability. A few days of struggle. For some, it’s a way of life. According to the Administration of Community Living, by 2040 more than 21% of the population will be over 65. A lot of racquetball accidents waiting to happen. Limited mobility. Failing ears and eyesight. Will there be enough community resources to go around?
Hold that thought—I have to get a coffee refill. It’s a complicated process. I’ll be gone awhile…