10 Reasons to Get a Hoveround

I’ve finally returned to work after only being there for five days total this month. I never thought I’d say this, but it’s kind of nice to be back. I was getting tired of sitting on the couch and being a slave to HGTV for several days in a row (I think I am officially certified to not only redesign your living room, but do demo work on it too).

But I have to state the obvious: being on crutches totally sucks. I was on crutches 12 years ago for a sprained ankle, but had since forgotten how utterly frustrating and degrading it was to hobble around on one foot. I’m already a klutz on two feet, so I’m not quite sure why they thought it would be a good idea to give me two sticks to help balance on my bad hip. I should have lobbied harder for the Hoveround (that at least comes with a cup holder).

So here’s my list of crappy things I deal with on a daily basis:

1. Everyone feels the need to ask, “Ohmigawwwd!!! What happened?! Poor thing!” For some reason, telling them I was trying to do laundry never seems to satiate their need for this information. I should just lift my pant leg to shut them up:

I know. Gross. And this is a week after the injury. Imagine how it looked before! Or don't. 

2. Opening doors is a race against time – I only have about one second to swing the door open as wide as it will go and dive through with my crutches before it hits me and knocks me over (which will probably result in another ER visit).

3. Managing stairs is life threatening – luckily I only have to deal with this at home, as I work on the first floor. It takes about an hour to go up or down, and I feel like I'm always going to fall one way or the other. It's especially inconvenient when nature decides to suddenly call. All of our bathrooms are on the top floor. I’ve considered asking Boyfriend to purchase Depends for me, just in case.

4. My armpits are constantly sore and the need to upgrade to clinical deodorant has become suddenly apparent.

5. I swear I’m developing carpal tunnel in my left hand due to my death grip on the crutch handles. I think that officially qualifies me for assisted living.

6. I can’t carry anything – unless I do this awkward move where I clench my left crutch under my left arm, and use my left hand to hold something, while using my right crutch normally. Walking this way results in a stagger that is only natural to Frankenstein. And then it makes my armpits sore and sweat even more. It’s easier just to ask Boyfriend to get it.

7. I can’t drive. I’m at the complete mercy of Boyfriend who has become my chauffeur amongst other service positions. Thank goodness we work for the same company, otherwise getting to work would be difficult – but I’ve had to change my schedule so we can ride in together. Getting off later makes the day seem to draaaaag.

8. I've had to ask for favors - and I hate asking for anything. My co-workers have helped me do things like get lunch and coffee. They’ve been so gracious about it and have even been checking in to make sure I have everything I need. I’ll have to do something nice for them once I’m able bodied.

9. I’m forced to wear my business attire. Stitches + jeans = pain. Having the above wound rub against rough denim makes me want to tear my hair out. But then baldness would just add to everyone's curiosity so that wouldn't be serving me at all. My injury has forced me to wear my nice business pants to work everyday. While this has certainly felt better on my knee due to the light and airy fabric, I hate dressing up with. a. passion. If they’d let us, I’d come to work in sweats everyday.

10. I can’t walk my dog. I made one attempt and didn't make it far before I felt like I had just ran a half marathon. I only went about 50 yards from my house. Bowser's leash was starting to get all tangled in my crutches and I was afraid he’d dart after something and trip me, or eat some nasty dead thing, in which case I wouldn’t be able to stop him. Sigh – another task Boyfriend has to manage.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but crutches are sooo frustrating.