It take a village-Part II of a broken foot

If you missed Part I, I advise that you read that first  to understand the series of events that happened to me and my foot two years ago.

In my first post on Part I of this broken foot many asked how I coped with this debacle. It wasn’t so much what I did for myself, but more what others did for me.

The first surgery coincided with the weekend that my Dad was flying into town to meet my niece. I spent the weekend eating lobster, sleeping in my sister’s guest room, feeding the baby, and watching the Elk bugle and mate in Rocky Mountain National Park. I thought, “this broken foot thing isn’t so bad.”

Hanging out in Rocky Mountain National Park the day after my surgery.

Eating lobster post surgery-this is the life.

Then I went home-alone. And it was hard. I spent many nights standing at the counter in the kitchen eating a Lean Cuisine because I had no way to carry my dinner to the table. My floors couldn’t be washed. I crawled up and down my stairs. And Mikaya was neglected of walks. One word for it all-pathetic.

Soon enough, help started coming in. My sister took my grocery shopping and I got to ride in one of those motorized carts that beeps when you back up. My Mom came, slept over, cooked and cleaned my home. I figured out a way to cross the street on my crutches with Mikaya in tow and throw a ball for her at the park. And students brought me coffee and heated up my lunch everyday at work.

Mom taking me out for brunch.

Mentally, after I stopped having my own little pitty party, I learned how to exercise my brain instead of my body. I had been toying with the idea of graduate school and this seemed like the perfect time to prop open the laptop while I iced on the couch and start searching. I also started studying and signed up for the GREs.

When I broke my foot a second time, the reinforcements came in without me even asking. People just knew it must not have been easy the first time, certainly the second time wouldn’t be a walk in the park-(obviously, since I couldn’t walk).

This was the exact day I broke my foot. My sister and this beautiful baby girl came over immediately to spread the cheer. You can’t help but smile with a baby in hand.

The day it happened, my sister and baby came over to cheer me up and would continue to do this for many more months. They were my cheer up crew. My neighbor/co worker was training for a half marathon and came over every other day and took Mikaya on her training runs. Another coworker came by every morning before I got in the shower and took Mikaya for a walk to the coffee shop where Mikaya was invited in for muffins. Other people brought over dinners, beers, and once again gave me rides to the grocery store. And one friend picked me up and took me to the gym where I lifted upper body and rowed.

I look back with an enormous amount of gratitude for these people. Injuries are never easy, even more so when you live alone. In some ways, the mental exhaustion came naturally because I had so much to think about to function with simple everyday things.

If injured, don’t be afraid to ask for help. The first time I was far too prideful and thought this is no big deal, I can do this. The reality is that people are kind, generous, and one day you can pay it forward as well.

Every been injured?

How did you cope?

Who helped you



7 responses to “It take a village-Part II of a broken foot

  1. I can’t imagine going thru a post-surgery time period while living alone. That’s tough, girl. When I had surgery last April, my parents flew out to spend the first week with me, and that was SUCH a huge help. Weez was there by my side thru the whole thing (waking me up at all hours of the night to make sure I was taking my meds). Talk about thru sickness and in health! He rocks.

  2. Pingback: The comeback-broken foot part III | Mountain Kait·

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