From biological warfare to collateral damage: Coping with shattered ankle creates new challenges

It’s been 17 days now since I broke my leg. I have had a great opportunity to find new meaning from old militaristic phrases. I have been specifically advised by my commander, the surgeon who pieced my bones back together, to keep the weight off the broken leg for six weeks. This means that the only way I can get around is with crutches. I always thought that the worst challenge would be the balancing act. I had no idea how much “collateral damage” I would experience. First my poor armpits feel like Mike Tyson pummeled them endlessly. Seeking relief, I tried to shift some of the weight from my armpits and now I feel like I have borne the weight of the Ohio State Marching Band on the palms of my hands. I am thankful that I have Percocets in my arsenal.

“Safe Passage” describes the effort taken to avoid breaking my other leg. I have already managed to tear a towel rack off my bathroom wall and permanently deform my shower doors.

I have carefully removed multiple hazards from my floor, creating a “Demilitarized Zone”, Water spills are deadly as well as small scraps of paper. Beware of a fallen towel, as far as a crutch is concerned, they might as well be banana peels! 

The basement has a long narrow stairwell that does not have a rail on either side. This is aptly named, “No Man’s Land”, foreboding and unforgiving, I dare not venture into this hazardous territory. My laundry room is down there, and my clean clothes are running low. Coping with this shortage is a different kind of “biological warfare”.

On the bright side, I get all the attention a guy could ever ask for. A hobbling character with a casted leg brings out the best in people. Everyone wants to help you. I recently went to the Post Office, opened the company box and saw a pile of mail. I had one of those, uh… duh moments. How in the world could I juggle the mail, manage my crutches and get out of the Post Office in one piece? Luckily an older (and definitely wiser) woman gently came forth and said, “Mr. Goldsmith, why don’t I carry your mail for you!” I felt like I was down to my last bullet and the Calvary had just arrived!

Aaron Goldsmith
Founder and President
Transfer Master