I was told I might have extensive nerve damage but I recovered fine. [Don’t know what I’m talking about? Check out part one] My surgeon was every ambitious bro I had ever met in college. Blond and drunk on self-confidence, in his office he surrounded himself with all the prestigious awards he had won to remind himself that society’s reassurance of the idea of success was enough. Great surgeon, terrible person. Which makes me lucky I guess.
He told me my range of motion would never be great, but after a few months I would “be able to put my earrings in and stuff.” You know, the stuff ladies care about. Forget about being strong, capable, and my independence. My ability to climb and do other active things that make me happy. Would I still be able to put on makeup? Would I be able to find anyone willing to marry me even though I was scared? What about having babies? Oh god, please tell me that I am still attractive and my womb is viable! So yeah, screw you and your unacceptably terrible bedside manner, Chad.
Anyhow, my elbow was stuck at 90 degrees and I spent hours and hours every day doing painful physical therapy exercises.
There were problems with getting my physical therapy covered. And the offices that could supposedly help me are only open 9-5, so I spent my lunch breaks in a triangle of desperations calling back and forth between the hospital that did my surgery, my insurance, and my physical therapist trying to figure what I could do.
I went back to work way sooner than I should I have. But like I said, I was broke from being unemployed for almost six months and this was my first full-time job in my field. It was really important to me. An idiot I worked with there told me after finding out what happened, “Well, you’re here working so it can’t be that bad.” And if I ever get a chance to travel back in time it would be to that point in my life so that I could punch her in the face.
I became really angry. My life was not working out as planned. My job was fine but I thought I would be doing something interesting and worthwhile after working so hard to get my degree. Instead, it was repetitive and dull and my coworkers lived in the suburbs with their dogs or their kids and we had nothing in common. My arm hurt and took up all my time with boring and painful physical therapy. I couldn’t concentrate on anything because of the pain medication I was taking. I couldn’t do things I enjoyed. I was tired of asking for help all the time. Help with laundry, with cooking, with carrying groceries and washing my hair.
I needed my friends and family more than ever and I hated it. They were out partying and enjoying life and doing the things I used to be able to do. I was stuck at home. I started being really mean to the people closest to me. I was resentful of needing them. I was resentful of their healthy lives. And instead of reaching out, I lashed out. The way I treated those closest to me during this time is my biggest regret.
I was unhappy so I used my tried and true method of running away. I moved to another state, got a different boring job. Continued to treat other people poorly, blame them for my behavior, and isolate myself. There were complications with my arm. I had to have another surgery. There were more complications. I was told my hand might be paralyzed. I lost all the muscles in my hand. I underwent a lot of painful tests to determine the extent of the nerve damage. I cried hysterically in front of more doctors with terrible bedside manner. I had yet another surgery. I couldn’t lift my fingers and I had to start over with the range of motion of my elbow. I had another year of physical therapy. I stopped climbing altogether. I stopped going out. When I did go out, I was drinking a lot. I was really, really lonely.
I signed up for a climbing gym after my third surgery and told myself that I needed to do it. This is what people that are ok do. They do the things that make them happy. I just couldn’t accept that this didn’t make me happy anymore. I would go to the gym with all my gear and instead of climbing, I would take yoga classes. I remember being in a crowded weeknight class and the teacher asking if anyone had any requests. A girl about my age asked about neck stretches and completely unnecessarily told the class her entire story of being recently hit by a car while riding her bike and had all these long-term injuries and complications.
I recognized myself immediately in this girl. She was hurting and she needed other people to understand that her life was hard and she was in pain and going to continue to be in pain and she didn’t know how long for. She had been consumed by her accident and needed other people to understand. So did I. It didn’t matter that a room full of strangers trying to take a yoga class is a completely inappropriate place to share that experience. It was her entire reality, and it’s very likely that no one she knew could really understand.
I remember speaking to a friend who had been in a horrific car accident, that resulted in a serious hand injury. I remember her telling me in disgust that so many people had told her she was lucky to be alive. The only kind of person that would say that is the kind of person who has not experienced a traumatic accident. If something like that has happened to you, you are not lucky, you are not grateful. You are in fact extremely unlucky. She was the only person on that bridge that got in that car accident and almost died that day. And afterward, she had to pay an exhausting emotional and physical price. It’s like hearing someone that has always been well off talk about how money isn’t important. It’s not even worth trying to explain because the vast majority of people don’t have the empathetic capacity or desire to understand what you are going through.
I could have died. I could have been paralyzed. I could have lost my arm. I also could have not had a rock climbing accident. There are also those who tell me everything happens for a reason, which is almost as bad a being told I am lucky. Oh really? Good things have happened to me since my accident? Wow, it must be a miracle! You know what also happened to me before the accident? Good things. You know what would have been like a really really good thing? Not having this accident and losing two years of my life. And just so many spiritually enlighten spinoffs of what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I was already plenty strong before, thanks.
And I didn’t understand what was happening to me. I couldn’t connect why it was so very hard to be me. And I think that maybe if I had understood I was depressed, and that it was because of my arm, I would have fared a bit better. In my mind, I had compartmentalized what had happened and what was happening and couldn’t make the connection of what in hindsight is extremely obvious. But when I first heard the term injury onset depression, everything connected right away. Of course I was depressed, of course it was because of my injury. I couldn’t do anything, I couldn’t use my arm for two years. I had to reteach myself how to type. I was scared. I was traumatized. My life was awful, and almost nobody I knew could relate to me. Who wouldn’t be having a really hard time?
And while I haven’t become grateful for the trauma the way people that hang Live, Laugh, Love signs tell me I should be, over time I have calmed down about it. I have put it in perspective. I don’t tell people about my injury upon first meeting them anymore. I’m not angry. I still don’t climb, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t healed, that I haven’t fully recovered.
I wanted to share my experience because I have come to realize that what happened to me is far more common than I could have imagined possible. And I wish I had known that. I wish I had known that depression is a totally normal reaction to what happened to me. My life was total garbage for a while but it wasn’t my fault. And more importantly, it wasn’t the fault of the people around me. I think if I had better understood my own mental state, I would have treated people better. I wouldn’t have lost so many friends. I didn’t fail at recovering, it’s just that being unhappy, that not your best self, possible your worst self, is totally normal, and it’s ok. It won’t be the same, but with time, things are going to be ok.
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