What to Write on My Hand

One of the great chores for my physical therapist as I got ready to leave has had nothing to do with PT.  She was instrumental in PT things like trying to get this left foot problem to calm the &W@* down, testing the walking cast (what a disaster that was), helping me determine that any kind of walking aid would cause terrible problems (and thus helping me decide that the walking cast is seriously a last resort), and helping me realize I need to do things like get the straps on my knee brace changed and try out the compression top to keep the shoulder in place.  But so much more of what she was doing was helping me plan not to destroy myself.

We've talked through what to wear to the airport: All the braces, seriously ALL of them.

We had a hard conversation about why I have trouble asking for the help I should at the airport: It somehow all comes down to pride and brain fog, in the end.

I made her cry (in sympathy) when I asked her why it's so hard for me to do things that are better for me, and she flat out said, "It's because you don't want to be disabled, but you are."  And she's right.  She's still right.  I still HATE it and will do myself harm for weeks just to prove (to whom?) that I can (when I really shouldn't).

We've talked through all the scenarios.  I will be ready early.  I will get to the airport with extra time.  I WILL wear all the braces (yes, including the neck one and the shoulder one and the wrist ones).  I WILL have someone help carry the 4 overweight suitcases down the stairs.  I WILL ask the driver to load them.  I WILL check them curbside.  I WILL ask for a wheelchair.  I WILL take the cart.  When someone offers any help, I will say, "Yes, please!" instead of no, thank you.

And I will write something on my hand to remind me in the middle of things when I'm tempted to forget all of this.  We spend some time joking about what I should write and decide on "there is enough time" because my problem is that I feel rushed and get flustered.  A reminder that there is enough time should give me the chance to take a couple breaths before I respond or do the next thing.  In theory.

Are we there yet?

In practice, the neighbor who I asked to help bring the bags down forgot how days of the week work (it happens), so I had to bring the bags down the stairs, but I wore all the braces and was very careful to use good posture with the right muscle groups engaged.  Turns out you can't check curbside for international travel, but the driver is a sweetheart and helped me get everything inside where the gate agent didn't know how to process my not-quite-Visa and the appalling baggage fees, and it was okay because I had so much time.  

When I got to Canada, I lucked out and found a cart ride and then got captured by the wheelchair people who were uninterested in my reflexive no thank you, and then the baggage guy brought all the bags to the car rental place where he waited forever and then helped load them into the car even though he wasn't supposed to, and I rested and iced aggressively and didn't collapse.

So huge thanks to BH, who is my guide to learning to be more kind to myself to get the results I want even if I don't want to be in the situation I am in.