Fear Factor

The thing I hate most about having broken so many bones is not the pain--it's the fear. When I broke my arm, I fell backwards on rollerblades and landed with all my weight on my left arm. It seemed reasonable that my arm would break in that circumstance, even with wrist guards on.

When I broke my leg, though, it broke in 6 places solely from the torque placed on it regaining my balance when I slipped on loose gravel--I didn't even fall. The orthopedic surgeon said my X-ray looked like I had been hit by a car. My first reaction was that I should just sit in a chair and never move. The movement that resulted in my leg breaking was so small, I felt like I could break a bone any day just going about my normal routine. That fear was confirmed by my doctor, who told me that I was at high risk for fracturing. She said that if I thought I was immobile with a broken arm and leg, I should think about what adding a broken hip to that mixture would bring, not to mention the risk of death from throwing off a blood clot with a broken hip. She instructed me not to exercise and to be very careful until I had been on Forteo, a drug I inject myself with daily to rebuild my bones, for 3 months.

After the 3 months were over, my doctor told me that I can do anything I want that isn't high impact, but that if I fall, I will break a bone. So I find myself frequently fearful. When I take spinning classes, at the end of the class, we stretch our hamstrings by putting one foot on the bike seat. We start with the other foot in line with the elevated leg, and then change the angle to stretch the inside of our thighs. Everyone else just shifts their feet. I put my leg down, shift my foot, and raise my leg up again, because I'm afraid I will break my leg bone by shifting it with all my weight on it.

When I went to the Patriot's game, I walked very carefully across the parking lot, because it was covered with loose gravel--the surface I slipped on when I broke my leg. The parking lot was full of people running and tossing footballs. Before I broke my leg, I would have attempted to catch and throw a football at least once. Now I was afraid to walk, much less run.

Yesterday morning, we got about the smallest amount of snow you can get and have snow on the ground, as you can see in the picture of our front yard (you can also see Liz's sculpture of the file cabinet man, which I love). When we went to the Y for spinning class, I was afraid that the parking lot would be icy, and held Liz's arm as we crossed it. I come from Minnesota--I'm used to snow and ice. I remember my whole life loving icy surfaces--I would always get a running start and see how far I could slide. I'm sure I did that as recently as last winter. I miss being that person--having that confidence in my balance and my body. I used to get mad at Liz for her caution--not wanting to go down steep hills on rollerblades. Now I am much more cautious than she is.

I am hopeful that working out will help me to regain my confidence in myself and my balance. I have decided that I am not going to let my fears stop me from doing what I want to do. I didn't enjoy recovering from broken bones, but I could do it again, and would rather do it than spend the rest of my life in a chair. But I sure would love it if I didn't spend so much time afraid.