Breaking Bad (and the Need for Friends)

It was seemingly easy for me to go through life as a child never breaking a bone. Quite amazing actually, considering a love of climbing and sports. But growing up in the 1970’s was very different from today. For instance, my favorite milk started out in glass bottles and was only Homogenized. Nothing skim or soy or almond about it. Our bones were strong and we were outside constantly the minute it turned warm…endlessly riding our mustang bicycles all over the neighborhood. Even coming from a much colder climate there was a lot of sunshine throughout the year. We’d readily absorb, ever so naturally, that vitamin D and no supplements were required.

It wasn’t until my early 30’s that I managed to break a bone. An ankle injury, occurring after an hour of Roller-Blading through a Toronto park with my friend. It required a cast along with a means of torture commonly referred to as: crutches. At that point my life was simpler and responsibilities were few. Although having a small set of stairs up to my one bedroom apartment wasn’t the easiest, at least it didn’t happen during the Winter months. It was close to September and only a measly 4 weeks until a walking boot could be put on.

Cut to now: 2015, two days before my family was to arrive for a well deserved Spring Break trip with the nieces and a 70^th birthday celebration for my Mom. A simple task of cleaning the house turned into a misstep (literally) and a twisted fall breaking the base of the fifth metatarsal bone in my left foot. What that means isn’t entirely clear, other than requiring a cast, those horrible torture devices (crutches!) yet again and 6 weeks recovery (if in fact surgery isn’t required). It also means having to slow down to a near stop, which is extremely hard for me, or for any Mother really. Most of the Mom’s in my circle of friends will work through a cold and even the flu to tend to their families needs as well as their own. It also means asking for help. That word “help” is almost unheard of when you’ve been fiercely independent for most of your adult life, even following marriage. Yet there was a brief point of time during my pregnancy where it was imperative to accept the help of others. Being put on bed-rest for a couple months to protect the health and safety of the little being trying her best to grow inside of me. For those months my husband did all the grocery shopping, cooking and whatever other necessities were required while maintaining a full time job across town to boot. His Mother, who lived nearby, helped by providing me with a tasty lunch ever day to make sure we remained nourished. But this is different; this isn’t protecting something so precious that you realize it’s imperative to ask and receive the help you need. No, this is a silly accident that ended with a degree of immobility. What is surprising is how much in a day one can take that mobility for granted. A simple task like preparing dinner takes so much longer because moving items to where you need them is just, well, time consuming! There is also the art of just simply balancing while trying to use both hands. The idea of leaving the house to go out when faced with 32 steps each day is a task in itself. Walking the dog is impossible so my husband has picked up the task both before and after work. In fact, my husband and daughter have picked up a number of tasks, fortunately for me. One thing that I’m thankful for is that the injury is my left foot…so driving to pick up my daughter after school each day isn’t an issue, other than the stairs.

Why do we find it so difficult to ask for help? We know our friends are there for us when we need a shoulder to cry on or simply to make us laugh. Friends are sounding boards and confidants. They can become the family we choose to grow old with while we marvel at how fast our kids grow up. But asking one of them for help on a week-to-week basis is simply daunting. It’s hard to admit that you, the task juggling / game attending / chauffeur / cook / tutor / grocery shopper / cleaner and “super-mom” might actually require help! My friends know this though, as I would as well, and they push to help. They push, insist and are simply there when you really do need that extra hand. They come and take the dog for a walk when your husband is juggling too much one day, they will pick up that bottle of wine for that function next week when you can’t go into a store to get it yourself, they’ll call and ask if you need any groceries when they are heading to the supermarket or they just simply come by with a cup of coffee to visit knowing you are somewhat housebound. These are your friends: the other Mom’s who know how hard it is to ask. These are the people in your life that you celebrate with, cry with or just hang out with when it’s necessary. Thank you, Friends. You can’t imagine how much you’re appreciated.