Brush with Distress

Distress can be defined as “To cause strain, anxiety, or suffering to.” My brush with it began when I skiied down “The Exhibitionist” at Marmot Basin in Jasper in January 2002. Shortly afterwards I wrote this about the experience...

It was my first time skiing in a few years. There was 4 of us traveling from Edmonton to Marmot Basin in Jasper… My friend Nancy, my boyfriend Scott and a fellow PhD student David. It was exciting to get on the slopes after so long! Skiing is an expensive sport, and as a long-time student it had been difficult to find the time or money for this activity. I had also injured both knees hitting the dashboard in a car accident a couple of years earlier, so it was nice when I got cruising down the hills and my knees withstood the punishment.

It was later in the afternoon and I decided to follow Scott down “The Exhibitionist”, a black diamond run covered in these huge moguls. They were ‘do-able’ moguls though and I like to challenge myself, so I decided to follow while the others chose another run. It was near the start of the run when I was rounding a mogul, one ski succeeding in doing so and the other… uh, kept going straight down the hill. The rest of my body also went straight down the hill and I landed face down in the snow. My left leg twisted behind me. An incredible pain gripped me. I wanted to cry it was so bad, and I’m no crier!!! (At physical pain that is…) It took a few minutes for me to get my breath back and regain my bearings. Scott helped me up. I tried to put weight on my left leg and couldn’t, it kept collapsing. I really really wanted to just finish the run on one leg but I couldn’t. There was no possible way. So Scott set up the ski’s in the “skiier down criss-cross”, and went for help. Some people above me on the chair lift were nice enough to ask if I needed help. Yes, I had done this with and audience, hence the name of the run I suppose.

It seemed to take forever, but help arrived. I wasn’t sure how they’d get me down the hill, on the back of a snowmobile? But after checking my leg out, they lay me down on a tobaggon layered in blankets and plastic. They zipped me up so that I had a small space to peer up at the sky, and then a skiier pulled me “horse and sleigh style” down the steep hill. It was a long haul to first aid but we got there ok.

I couldn’t believe the state of my leg. I had never had an injury so serious before, nothing that left me so helpless and in pain. I fought back the tears. I couldn’t straighten it, bend it, or put weight on it.

Later in Edmonton, I lay on Scott’s couch as he ran to the store for crutches, Advil and a bag of frozen peas, bless his heart. He even helped me with difficult tasks such as getting in and out of the shower which is impossible on one leg.

I spent the whole next day in the emergency room and the following day I returned to school, wearing baggy pants that fit over my knee brace, and hobbling around campus on crutches. I had no idea that crutches were so hard to deal with. My arms were so weak by the end of the day that I couldn’t even hold myself up any longer.

The specialist told me that week that I had torn my ACL – anterior cruciate ligament. It’s the ligament that stabilizes the knee, running down the center and keeping it from bending too far one way or another. Once it tears, it never repairs itself. Hearing the doctor tell me that my knee would never be the same again was extremely HARD. Surgery was an option, where they take a tendon from another place and form an ACL from it. Being the surgiphobe that I am, I hoped this wasn’t necessary.

Anyway, after my first few days on crutches, I went on David’s suggestion to rent a scooter. I found out that the Office for Students with Disabilities rents them out for $2 a day. I had hoped to get stronger on the crutches, but the scooter offered an opportunity to get around farther and faster, particularly on campus, while not exhausting me by the end of the day.

The scooter ended up being very useful, except that there were some drawbacks. First of all, any friends or colleagues who saw me trying to get around the school got quite a chuckle at my expense. Bastids!!! Rose wanted me to wear my “special friend” helmet and old glasses to complete the look. This was probably not the most politically correct, but they thought it was funny sight either way, meanies! Other people looked at me differently too. I have to say that I learned a lot about what its like to have a disability, even if it was only for a short time. It was like they were looking at the disability, not the person. The worst part was that EVERYTHING you do is a chore. I swore A LOT. The simplest thing like making dinner is a major task, hopping around the kitchen and hopping and hopping around the kitchen till dinner is made. Then you sit down to eat and something needs more salt, you forgot your knife, or you need to get up again to get a drink. Hop hop hop!!! F*&% F*&% F*&%!!! Not to mention carrying anything like dinner and a drink on crutches or while hopping is quite a unique challenge. I already mentioned getting in and out of the shower with only one usable leg, or doing anything around the house for that matter. Out of the house, I couldn’t drive because my car is a stick shift and my left leg for using the clutch was useless. Rose had to drive me to school every day.

Around school, the scooter really helped, but driving it was almost more painful than helpful. I can really empathize with people in wheelchairs. Just learning which buildings had handicapped access ramps and doors, and where they were was quite a task. My office was in an old building called Newton Research. Luckily it has a ramp, however the front door opens toward the ramp, so that in order to get through the door, I had to drive past it and then somehow reach back to get it open, and back the scooter up while trying not to tumble down the stairs to the immediate left of me. Not easy by any stretch. Sometimes a nice man outside smoking would open the door for me, sometimes I would get off the scooter and somehow try to hold the door open and drive it in from on one foot. Elevators were another story. One day I had to get across campus for a meeting ASAP, and left early as always to make sure I could get there on time. After waiting and waiting outside the elevator to get down from the 5^th floor, I finally abandoned the scooter and got my crutches out. At least I COULD get the crutches out, some people don’t have that option. I struggled but gained a new respect. What a helpless aggravating feeling. I found out later that the elevator was out of order.

Another thing about the scooter was that it would stall for no reason. Sometimes this was simply annoying, and sometimes it was downright embarrassing! For instance, back to the need for elevator use… well, people would hold the doors open for me and as I went to enter the elevator, the scooter would just STOP. They would wait while I tried to get it going again and finally I would get so embarrassed that I would just wave them on and say I’d catch the next one, hoping the scooter would come back to life in time and not pull that shit again. But by far the worst scooter stalling times were when I was crossing the street. I would enter the crosswalk with my fingers crossed, praying that it would go smoothly and sure enough, it would stop right in the middle. I would sit there like a dork, trying to get it going again while drivers and other pedestrians looked at me like I was nuts. I’m sure they wondered to themselves as to why I would possibly stop in the middle of the road… like I thought hanging out in the crosswalk when the light was about to turn was a good idea!!! One particular time David was escorting me to a seminar where I had to give a presentation, specifically so I could get there on time and avoid any unforeseen obstacles. Sure enough, I went to cross the street and the scooter stopped. Around the corner a bus came upon us while David tried to push me across to no avail. I got off and we both tried to get the scooter across while a busload of people watched. Eeesh.

Anyways, there were countless other little mishaps, but I got through it… pretty distressed. The mishaps built on each other, and I got really cranky throughout the whole thing and even completely lost it on a couple of instances. It finally got so that if something went wrong, I would just say, “it figures”. However, in retrospect I am very grateful. I learned a lot about what its like to have a disability. However, my brush with distress was just that, temporary. I guess its like that old saying about walking (or in this case not walking) in another’s shoes. My knee may not be the same ever again, but it’s not a permanent disability. There are people who deal with these difficulties every day of their life, and have a good attitude about it… that’s the key, a good attitude. Also good friends to help you out! The truth is that you may not be able to change your situation, but you can change the way you deal with it… in between the all the crying and swearing and throwing of things!!!