It was the 21st of December 2010. We had a plane flight the next day bound for Sydney. We would be heading to Sydney to spend Christmas with Jeanie and Steve, Lynden’s sister and her husband. Lynden’s parents and other sister Michelle had already flown over and we would meet them there. The seven of us were flying from Sydney to a family reunion in Tasmania right after Christmas and New Years. I had been looking forward to this for ages.
I was in the midst of finalising our Christmas presents before we left for Sydney when I realised I had to exchange one of the gifts. I could hear the rain pounding outside. I almost laughed at the thought that Perth, with its reputation for good weather, had a torrential downpour of rain in the middle of summer. With my handbag in one hand, and my Myer bag in the other I headed out the door and casually strolled down the wet steps of our front patio.
That’s when I fell.
One leg slipped and flew forward, the other one staying stuck underneath me. With both hands flying into the air, I felt myself fall backwards onto my bent leg, the one that was left behind when the other one slipped. The pain was incredible as I landed with the full force of my body onto my left leg. After the initial landing, I felt a second dip as my ankle gave way to the weight on top of it.
You see that second last step from the bottom in the picture below? That’s the one I slipped on. I hang my head in shame.
It was a deep ripping noise, no distinct crack, snap and pop. I thought I must’ve sprained my ankle, or torn a ligament. I literally started screaming Ouch! Owe! Owe! Owe! despite the fact that no one could hear my screams in the rain. As I did an army crawl back up the steps, a bag hooked to each elbow, I dramatically pulled myself across the patio using the full length windows for support, fingerprints leaving their mark. I hopped back inside the house, dropped into a chair and called Lynden.
I didn’t cry when they told me my ankle was broken in two places, or that I’d torn the muscle. I’m pretty sure I even gave Lynden two eager thumbs up when the nurse was putting on the cast. Then came the bad news: you can’t fly with such a fresh break, the tightness from the swelling in the cast could lead to blood clots. That’s when I started crying – my christmas plans, dreams of travels, hopes of adventures: ruined. This was what had gotten me through 2010. This little dream. A horrible year with the shining hope of an adventure at the end. And suddenly it was gone.
After hours of waiting, a second x-ray, and confirmation from multiple doctors who had sympathy on the girl who cried over travel plans instead of the fact that she broke her leg, I was given the go ahead to travel, with specially signed papers and two anti-clot injections to prove it.
This is me in Tasmania. I think some of the relatives who met me for the first time at the reunion will always remember me as the girl with the broken leg.
We did a LOT of walking (by we I mean everyone else). I was privileged to have a husband that hired me a wheel chair, then went on to push me in it through every terrain imaginable, making sure I kept up with everyone. I didn’t miss out on any of the fun. Thank you Lynden John! x
How gorgeous is Tasmania!
All the pictures above were taken with my little Canon IXUS 90. I’m also adding the picture below (taken today) featuring two working legs :)