Day Ten: Where Did All These Days Go?

"Kindness is just love with its work boots on." 

- The House Bunny

Today is the last day of my body intervention, and I do think I'm rather sad that it is. However, as many bruises as I've gained from this, I've also learned many valuable lessons throughout these past ten days. 


I do hope that long after this year has come and gone, these lessons stay with me:

1. No one is as strong as they seem.
2. Pride can be destructive.
3. You don't need a reason to help people.
4. It's okay to not always be okay.
5. Offer people help before they have to ask for it.
6. Other people actually do care.
7. You're allowed to admit that you can't do something.
8. If you're different, people will stare. Be different anyway.
9. Sympathy isn't always a bad thing.
10. Elevators aren't as scary as in the movies.

I think I'm going to miss my crutches, my neck brace and my moon boot. I'm probably going to miss having an excuse to use the elevator and having people open doors for me. I'm going to miss the genuine "What happened?"  expressions on all my friends' faces. I'm going to miss being able to hide all my insecurities behind this armour.

I now know that it's okay to ask for help, and that sympathy isn't always false and patronising.

In the end, I learned, I cried, I stretched, I broke down barriers and got rid of prejudgement and misconceptions. After these ten days, I changed for the better. 

Photos taken by one of Vega's photography students.

Day Nine: Do You Need Any Help?

"Sweetie, life is too short to take the elevator." 

- Dad

It's my second last day as a victim, and even though I did learn one heck of a lot through this intervention, I can't wait for it to be over. I can't wait to be able to run, and skip, and hop , and jump. I can't wait to be able to climb the stairs and moan about how unfit I am when I reach the top. I can't wait to be able to drive myself around again, wake up before everyone else and go on adventures to the beach by myself. I can't wait to, at 11'o clock at night, after finishing a tough essay, climb in my car and go buy myself an ice-cream, or chicken nuggets. I can't wait to be free, and with it, have my independence back.

I knew being injured would have some sort of effect on my psyche, and it did. However, I wasn't prepared to lose my independence. Throughout this intervention, the thing that got to me the most was having to rely on other people to drive me around, and just for help with every day tasks in general. I don't think I ever fully realised that, contrary to the belief that "No man is an island," I sure do act as if I am one. And as satisfying as it is not needing anyone, it's actually quite lonely. Yes, I love being able to come and go as I please, but the fact that no one would probably notice if I went missing isn't the greatest thought to have. 

So maybe asking others for help isn't as bad as I've always thought it was. Maybe I should just dry-swallow that bitter pill of pride and ask for a hand every now and then. After all, there isn't anything wrong with admitting that you can't do it all alone.

Snapchat is wonderful. You can take selfies and not be judged.

Day Eight: Let's Go to Beluga?

They say good friends are hard to find. But I'm pretty convinced though, that it's only because they're all already mine. They're the best because, not only do they buy me Magnums, drive me around and wheel me through Gateway, but they put up with my somewhat lame jokes and they listen to all my opinions. 

So we went to Gateway for dinner today, and I felt somewhat conspicous  as the moment we were shown our table, the waitress took my crutch, pulled out my chair and served me as though I were either a toddler or a senior citizen. It wasn't exactly the highlight of my day.

"Just take that thing off Abby," was one remark I'd received, and "Do you really HAVE to walk like that?" was another. I guess I was annoying my friends ever so slightly. Or one heck of a lot. Who knows? 

As the evening progressed, I struggled to keep up with the rest of my friends frolicking through Gateway. It's no small feat attempting to 'walk with your arms' at the same pace as fully able-bodied people, and through the mall at that. I felt as if I was being an inconvenience, and I don't blame anyone for it.

Eventually, one of my incredible friends had the bright idea to go borrow me a wheelchair from reception. Now if I though crutches made me feel uncomfortable, imagine my surprise when it came to the wheelchair. It's rather humbling, and almost humiliating having to rely on someone else to get you places. Even if those places are just the ice-cream stall in the middle of the mall. 

Now don't get me wrong, it isn't that I didn't have fun. I did. It just felt very uncomfortable.

 

I'm starting a trend, baby. Starting a trend.

Jen Fredman is the best!

Thanks for not pushing me down that ramp Brett.

More selfies.

Black dresses & moon boots.

Day Seven: May I Pray for You?

"God is love." 

- 1 John 4:8

For as long as I can remember, I've loved Church. And by that, I mean not only the tall building with the towering steeple and the stained glass windows, but the people that gather every Sunday to worship in it. Never in my life have I been shown so much love, than that shown to me by the Church.

I wrestled with myself this entire week about going to church in my moon boot and crutches. It was honestly the one thing I didn't look forward to since the start of this project.  "You know they're all gonna wanna heal you, right?" was one of my class mate's first reactions upon remembering that I am Christian, and that Christians go to church.
And that stuck with me.

It wasn't that I didn't want people to pray for me, but it was the fact that I'd have to lie to the people I love and care about the most. And,especially because I do live far away from home,  I consider these people to be my family. 

I eventually plucked together the courage to go to church, and all I can say is that I am honestly so blessed by all the people that really do care about me. And I wouldn't trade these people for the world, or an Oreo McFlurry, or even some hot guy with RayBans.

The church I go to is rather large, so it is impossible to be close with everyone. However, people who I'm not even actually 'friends'  with, came up to me to make sure I was alright.

And I really just had to put it out there, because the love I've been shown is out of this world. Some would even say it's Heavenly.

More selfies (don't judge).

Overly dramatised expression of how I currently feel.

More selfies.

Yay for self timers 

Day Six: Can I Have Your Number?

"Guys are a waste of time Abby. If you have time, spend it wisely. Not on boys. Chasing them away is an investment." 

- My Friend, Damian Els

My friends are the greatest.  And they are not only great, but they are wise too. 

Today I went to work. And as I hobbled into the frozen yoghurt bar where I work, my supervisors first reaction was a really bad word. I had no choice but to explain my project to her, as she seemed not only concerned, but somewhat annoyed with me. The rest of the staff, however, had no idea. 

I felt bad playing the sympathy card, as not only did my tips double, but no one would let me do anything. Customers even offered to help me sweep. Awkward. 

There also happened to be a really sweet middle-aged man, who upon walking into the shop, asked,
"So, how long are you on those crutches for?"
"Six weeks," I replied, without any form of hesitation. I was getting good at lying. And that may be a problem.
"You should try Smart Crutches," he said, whilst scribbling down a website on the back of a till slip for me, "They take all the pressure of your hands."
"Thank you sir," I replied. And I had never in my life felt so guilty for lying to someone, because he was so damn nice.

________________________________________________________________________

"So, what happened to you?" were the first words out of this really sleazy-looking guy's mouth as he approached the counter where I was working.
"I fell off a horse," I gave my usual reply.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. That's horrible. How did that happen?" he asked
"Uhhh… I just fell, I guess," was what I answered him. I don't get paid enough to make conversations with creepy men.
"Well, I think we have a lot in common then. I love horses. In fact, I used to train them, and I even gave little kids horse-riding lessons."
"Oh."
"Yes! How interesting is that? It's probably a sign. Do you want to go to the beach with me tomorrow, and can I have your number?" he said, trying to be all cool.
"No. I just met you," I replied, picked up my crutch and hopped away.
So much for being nice to customers.

I don't know what it is about being injured, but it seems to make me a weird-o magnet (sorry for sounding judgemental). I bet you half a chocolate cake that those boys see me and the only thing that enters their mind is, "Hey, that one has a broken leg. She can't run away!" No, but I can smack you with one of my crutches.

You can stop laughing at me now, thanks.

FroYo Fo' Sho'

Day Five: Why Do You Look So Pretty Today?

"The greatest trick that the devil ever pulled was convincing women that they looked better in their makeup." 

- Macklemore, Thin Line

Today's events were nothing worth writing home about.

However, after more than one person had asked me why I'd been wearing makeup the whole week, I figured that there must be a reason for it. And I needed to figure it out.

This might be going slightly of the topic. Forgive me.

The thing is I never wear make up to Vega, or gym, or work, or the mall. I only wear it to church. It's not so much because I'm too lazy to put it on (okay, maybe that's a small part of the reason) but I think it boils down to something my science teacher told me when I was in grade eleven:
"Makeup is one of those terrible things where once you start with it, the amount you are wearing is never enough, because you don't notice it."
And she was right. You stop noticing the little bit of makeup you religiously wear and you keep having to apply more and more of it for it to have any sort of impact.

I think, deep down, even though I don't always I show it, these beautiful pieces of hospital equipment make me feel insecure. I am probably a little bit insecure without them, but that's a whole nother blog. The crutches, the cast, the neck brace, they all make me feel ugly. Not only conspicuous, but ugly. 

I can't even begin to imagine how people who have been disfigured in accidents or who are chronically ill must feel. They probably feel ugly too. And I've never realised that. How terribly, terribly selfish of me.

I need to stop being an ostrich and get my head the heck out of the ground.

Today is going to be a good day!

The long limp to freedom.

More elevator selfies.

Matching neck-thingys. I dig this girl!

Day Four: So That's The Story?

I actually left my room today.

And I think, for the first time, I am experiencing this intervention in it's full glory.
I almost can't deal with the way people move out of my way or give me very pitying, sympathetic looks. It's like I may as well have pink hair and a fifth limb. 

You know how your mom always told you' "Don't stare! It's rude."? Well I don't think that's a thing anymore, because people stare. And they don't turn around and pretend not to when you look at them. They keep staring.

I guess one advantage probably is having people move out your way when you're shopping at Woolies or wherever. So that's quite helpful. Because I normally get rather irritable and claustrophobic when shops are full and three or four ladies take up the entire isle with their soccer-mom conversations.  The crutches cured that. I think I should keep them.

After buying a few things from Woolworths, we decided to stop for coffee and use the café's WiFi to do our blogs for the day. (Student life.)

As soon as I sat down, the waiter asked me "What happened?" and I spun him my usual 
"I fell off a horse" story. 
But this time, he didn't believe me.
"Oh, so it that the story we're going with?" he said, disapprovingly, waiting for a response.
I didn't give him one.

So, I am currently sitting here, in my full-on astronaut outfit, being sympathetically stared and frowned upon from across the room. By not only my concerned waiter, but his manager, the barista and some old lady as well.

This is probably what I signed up for though. So I guess I can't feel too sorry for myself. It could be worse. I could actually have fallen off a horse, or been in a car accident. 
So there's that. 

But I don't WANT to put my neck brace on.

My make-shift wheel chair / land-canoe. 

Please enjoy this webcam selfie :)

Class Activities!

Sympathy CARd say what?

My friends are the best chauffeurs. And I love them.

Day Three: It Rained?

“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” 

- Friedrich Nietzsche

Having thee greatest class mates is making this intervention not only bearable, but somewhat fun too. Today, there were three of us: the cripple, a little pregnant teen and one badass punk-emo kid in the elevator. We were trying our very best to take a selfie in the mirror when we ended up on the wrong floor. Now this must have been quite the sight for the poor office a floor above ours as we received a few frowns upon arrival. We then realised how ridiculous we all must look, and burst out into a hysterical fit of laughter. I actually ended up with a headache. A good one.

As a result, we now have an incredible set of selfies and memories.

________________________________________________________________________

I haven't been out in a while. Well, actually in three days. It feels like forever though. It's probably because I can't drive myself around. And that drives me mad (excuse the pun).
I've been to Vega, and back home, and to Vega and back home. And it isn't much fun as you can imagine. I actually have to stay at home and do work. Yuck.

At about 5'o clock this afternoon, I went outside to fetch something out of my car, and saw that it had rained. I had had no idea that there were even clouds in the sky, let alone an entire rain storm. And I love rainstorms. I really love rainstorms.

Missing out on one of my favourite, little, things in life has sucked. Sufficiently. I need to get out more. I really do.

These two are so great!

But first, let us take a selfie.

That lady seemed upset. We were hysterical. 

Best photo in the history of ever!

Day Two: Who Are You Dressed Up As?

Today was good.

I think I might be getting used to walking with crutches, and if you swing properly, it actually ends up being kind of fun. However, my neck brace really hurts. At this current moment, I am more stiff than after that one training session where my gym-bunny-of-a-sister made me do countless numbers of reverse, weighted, hack-squats (Google it.) I also think I may be developing lock jaw from wearing this giant pool noodle-like thing around my neck.

Apart from the disappointing fact that I am incapable of having a neck like my favourite animal, the giraffe, I may have also reached the conclusion that people are annoying. And they ask dumb questions. And I honestly want to punch some of them in the face. To be fair to the rest of them though, it was only a handful of students. As far as the rest of the world knows, I really am injured.

"So like what are you supposed to be?" one guy asked me while I was sitting outside.
"Uhm…injured? I guess." I answered rather confusedly.
"No, but like what are you dressed up as?"

He wasn't the only one who seemed to be under the impression that we needed to play dress up. I literally had about a five minute conversation with one of the third years asking me the same question repeatedly. Like a million times. Ugh.

To quote my very awesome, incredibly lovely and utterly wonderful lecturer, Anet:
"THIS IS NOT A DRESS-UP PARTY!"

I think that's all I have to say about that. We'll have to wait and see what tomorrow brings.

    

How about no?

One more foot selfie.

   

   

Day One: What Happened?

"Hey Abby! Are you okay? What happened?"
Oh no. It's started. All the questions, all the offers to help, all the sympathetic glances. It's just as I'd feared.
"I'm okay. I just fell off a horse." I replied, after almost no thought at all.

Now anyone who's known me since high school, will be able to tell you that that's a lie. Simply because it is a truth, universally acknowledged, that I hate horses. However, that isn't even the point, because, not only do I hate horses, but I hate sympathy. And empathy. And just any kind of 'feel sorry for me-thy.'

In order for me to put myself in an uncomfortable situation, in which I'd have to ask for help or receive pity (the banes of my life) I've had to make myself look injured. And not "I just bumped my toe" injured, really injured. Therefore, I shall spend these ten days limping and hopping around with my newly acquired moon-boot cast, my neck brace and my bright red crutches. 

Today was day one of this body intervention. And it was hard. Really hard. Not only can't I walk properly in crutches, but my neck hurts from that stupid neck brace and my leg is completely asleep. I really did feel very uncomfortable, out of place and conspicuous. As a result, I also just so happened to start crying. Whilst giving a presentation. In front of my ENTIRE VisCom class. And my unlucky lecturer. Great. Now everyone feels sorry for me.

I guess it was probably good for me to get that out of my system, even though I hate crying in public. 

Current Emotion: I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about this.

Yay for foot selfies!

Munchausen Syndrome

“I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself.” 

- D.H. Lawrence

Munchausen syndrome is a type of factitious disorder, or mental illness, whereby a person repeatedly acts as if they have a physical or mental disorder when, in reality, they have caused the symptoms. Sufferers of factitious disorders behave in this because of an inner need to be seen as ill or injured. It is usually not to attain a tangible benefit, such as financial gain. These people are even willing to undergo painful or dangerous tests and operations in order to get the special attention and sympathy given to people who really are ill. Some people will even resort to secretively injuring themselves in order to cause signs like blood in the urine or cyanosis of a limb. Munchausen syndrome is a mental illness associated with severe emotional difficulties.

Munchausen syndrome was named after Baron von Munchausen, an 18th century German officer, who was best known for exaggerating the stories of his life and experiences. It is the most severe type of factitious disorder. Most symptoms in people with Munchausen syndrome are related to physical illness symptoms such as chest pain, stomach problems, or fever, rather than symptoms of a mental disorder.

The symptoms of Munchausen syndrome include deliberately produced or exaggerated symptoms in many ways. Sufferers may lie about or fake symptoms, hurt themselves to bring on symptoms, or alter diagnostic tests. Possible warning signs of Munchausen syndrome include dramatic but inconsistent medical history, unclear symptoms, extensive knowledge of hospitals and medical terminology, multiple surgical scars, problems with identity and self-esteem. There are many forms that this disorder comes in. These are possibly feigning cancer, cardiac disease, skin disorders, infections, bleeding disorders, metabolic disorders and chronic diarrhea.

The precise cause of Munchausen syndrome is not known. Researchers do, however believe both biological and psychological factors play a role in the development of this syndrome. Some theories suggest that a history of abuse or neglect as a child, or a history of frequent illnesses requiring hospitalisation, might be associated with the development of this syndrome.

While Munchausen syndrome can occur in children, it most often affects young adults.

Diagnosing Munchausen syndrome is problematic due to the dishonesty that is involved. If the doctor finds no physical reason for the symptoms, the person may be referred to a psychiatrist or psychologist. They then use a thorough medical history and physical, laboratory imagery, and psychological assessment tools to evaluate a person for Munchausen syndrome. The doctor bases their diagnosis on the exclusion of physical or other psychiatric disorders, and their thought of the patient’s attitude and behavior.

Although a person with Munchausen syndrome actively seeks treatment for the various disorders he or she invents, the person often is unwilling to admit to and seek treatment for the syndrome itself. This makes treatment for people with Munchausen syndrome very challenging, and the stance for recovery poor. When treatment is sought after, the first goal is to change the person’s behavior and reduce their misuse of medical resources. As with other factitious disorders, the primary treatment for Munchausen syndrome is psychotherapy.

People with Munchausen syndrome are at risk of health problems and even death. This is related to hurting themselves and causing their own symptoms. They might also suffer from reactions or health problems associated with multiple tests, procedures, and treatments, and are at high risk for substance abuse and suicide attempts. In most cases the disorder is a chronic, or long-term, condition. Further, many people with Munchausen syndrome deny they are faking symptoms and will not seek or follow any form of treatment. It is thus more realistic to work toward managing the disorder rather than trying to cure it. Avoiding unnecessary, inappropriate admissions to the hospital, testing, or treatment is important. Support from family and friends is also recommended (Cleveland Clinic, 2014). 

References

Cleveland Clinic, (2014). Cleveland Clinic: Munchausen Syndrome. [online] Available at: http://my.clevelandclinic.org/disorders/factitious_disorders/hic_munchausen_syndrome.aspx [Accessed 19 May. 2014].