On a forum that I frequent, someone recently asked what they could do for their friend who was laid up with a back injury. It's not often that I consider myself an expert on something. Normally, when I am interested in a topic, I know just enough to know how much I don't know and so usually I couch my information-sharing with all sorts of qualifiers, and so nobody considers me an authority on anything.
I mean, I did/do research in Obesity and Type 2 diabetes for five years, but let's all listen to my friend who read an article last week about coconut water on news.com.au. :)
Anyway, I feel like I am now an expert in what it is like to live with a halo brace! So I shall share with you my advice to this generous person who asked what they could do for their injured friend.
Things that helped me:
I didn't actually realise that last part until I started articulating it, but it's true. There was a flood of people to the hospital when I was injured (Thanks! Love you all!), and for the first week or so after I returned home. But life has moved on for most people and they've gotten wrapped back up in their normal lives, and the visitors have dried up.
To be fair to my friends, this isn't that different from what it used to be like when I lived here-- apart from one group of friends, most of them require some level of managing to get-together, and I used to organise a lot of dinners and parties because I like my friends, and like to see them. But now that I can't drive, I can't take an active role in organising to see them anymore, and they generally haven't made an effort to see me. I can't blame them, that's just life, and I would probably would have done the exact same thing if the positions were reversed. Not anymore.
This experience has given me the perspective that even though seeing an injured/ill person might only be a small thing in my busy day, it is actually a huge thing in theirs. It becomes even more important the more in the past the injury/illness becomes. The people who have come to Wanneroo to see me, or drop me off, or give me a lift(!)-- 30km, and half a world away-- are legends and I will remember them in my Christmas cards forever and ever and ever.
I mean, I did/do research in Obesity and Type 2 diabetes for five years, but let's all listen to my friend who read an article last week about coconut water on news.com.au. :)
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| The Dunning-Kruger Effect. Or, "Unskilled but Unaware of It" |
Anyway, I feel like I am now an expert in what it is like to live with a halo brace! So I shall share with you my advice to this generous person who asked what they could do for their injured friend.
Things that helped me:
- The hospital loaned me some "Prism" glasses, which reflected things at a 90 degree angle. This meant that I could read and use a phone or tablet lying down, without straining my arms/eyes/neck. This made all the following suggestions a lot easier.
- Quality books. A kindle was much better than a book since the page-turning mechanism is the press of a button/screen, and has less chance of folding up on you.
- Podcasts. I listened to This American Life, Escape Pod, Podcastle, The Bugle, Freakonomics, Radiolab, Serial, 360documentaries.
- A tablet would be the perfect way to read comics, if you have a way of getting them on.
- Computer games. I downloaded a lot of games on my ipad, a mix of quick puzzlers and some with more long-term playability. Some I enjoyed more than others: 80 Days, Paint it Back, Framed, Threes and 2048. It was also the perfect time to bust out my old Nintendo DS and play absorbing, non-time-sensitive games like Harvest Moon and Animal Crossing.
- Having all of these close at hand on one of the tables that goes over the bed was a small thing, but helped a lot because I didn't have to continually ask people to bring them to me, or stretch to find them in a way that might be harmful.
- Once your friend is able to be a bit more active/able to get out, I really encourage you to visit her, invite her to things, and arrange transport for her when possible. One of the hardest things for me at the moment is that I can't drive, and feel very isolated because I live far from my friends. I can count on my fingers the number of people that have come to visit me at my home, and while I have made an effort to catch up with other people at a place more convenient to them, it requires asking my poor parents/sister/boyfriend to take an hour out of their lives to drop me off and pick me up. So I haven't organised many things, and feel left out of other things. I know that it's not personal, but I am disappointed at how easily I seem to have been forgotten. Please don't let that happen to your friend! I really treasure the people who have made an effort to come and visit me/stay in touch.
I didn't actually realise that last part until I started articulating it, but it's true. There was a flood of people to the hospital when I was injured (Thanks! Love you all!), and for the first week or so after I returned home. But life has moved on for most people and they've gotten wrapped back up in their normal lives, and the visitors have dried up.
To be fair to my friends, this isn't that different from what it used to be like when I lived here-- apart from one group of friends, most of them require some level of managing to get-together, and I used to organise a lot of dinners and parties because I like my friends, and like to see them. But now that I can't drive, I can't take an active role in organising to see them anymore, and they generally haven't made an effort to see me. I can't blame them, that's just life, and I would probably would have done the exact same thing if the positions were reversed. Not anymore.
This experience has given me the perspective that even though seeing an injured/ill person might only be a small thing in my busy day, it is actually a huge thing in theirs. It becomes even more important the more in the past the injury/illness becomes. The people who have come to Wanneroo to see me, or drop me off, or give me a lift(!)-- 30km, and half a world away-- are legends and I will remember them in my Christmas cards forever and ever and ever.
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