The Silver Lining of my Limbo


How I acquired my severe sprain is not important but the results of said injury are quickly opening my eyes to a life led from the sofa. I’m in pain, on bed rest and it’s rubbish. My right ankle has a chance of winning the “match the colours of a unicorn’s mane” competition and swells to an unrecognisable shape and size with too much time on my crutches. 

My thoughts have become negative bordering maudlin and my normally tame language is increasingly matching my blue mood. Everyone round me helpfully pointed out “well, it’s not for long” or “at least it isn’t broken” until I lost my rag and cried out, “just let me be pissed off and miserable”.  My fellow woman in progress prompted me to note down all the “fuck the silver lining” feelings I was experiencing as it might make a good piece.  I didn’t do it and got even more pissed off and frustrated. The "sod the silver lining" blog content had been lost.

A couple of weeks have passed and I’m now determined to go beyond the silver linings – to seek out the positive and find the gleaming gold lining of the cloud casting it’s grey shadow on me and my rainbow ankle.

I’m reliant on everyone else and I hate it. I'm supposed to be helping my sister with her new baby and I can't. 

Fortunately, the people around me are more than happy to help, they love me, they’ve turned up, they’ve taken my children out, they’ve done it with smiles, gifts and flowers. These chirpy faces have brought food for the fridge, offered to push the hoover round and are in turn, grateful to “give back”.  I knew it before but I’m so glad we left the big smoke and came home. I am acutely aware at this moment that my family and friends are awesome. Even more exciting is I am chief baby holder of my new niece which is just wonderful! 

Static Parenting is shit: yelling, being ignored, more yelling all in quick succession, on repeat is infuriating and exhausting. 

The upside: my children are fast becoming more independent and my presence is required less and less for menial tasks. The available drinks and snacks that accompany this independence are far from nutritious but the children are coping. The beige daytime menu (when my fantastic helpers aren’t around) consists of chocolate spread sandwiches, crisps, breadsticks and houmous, maybe a banana. The holy grail of snacks can be found in the treat box, which is only accessible via a stool. The treat box is full of the shocking stuff you get in party bags and hide for another day. I’m pretty short and have to use a stool myself to access said box. The pursuit of the treat box is not safe but given the fact my children are newly deaf to anything other than affirmative responses from me, I have little choice but to watch them with baited breath. Bright and shiny cloud lining: I’m relaxing and they are gaining in self-reliance – a good thing?! 

Physical limitations and food are causing problems.

When I’m not on crutches I can be observed crawling and bottom shuffling.  I’ve rediscovered the 30 something year old wooden baby walker – it serves as my ingenious method of transporting coffee and beverages from the kitchen to the sofa.  My mother is a terrible hoarder of sentimental not so useful crap but I’m so glad she kept this specific item! 

Food problems.  Other notable methods of kitchen to sofa transport include the now pretty accurate frisbee of Ikea plastic plates and general wanging of any food that might survive. Does my airborne diet consist of food for the summer ready me? I should be so lucky!   My husband, though incredible in his new combo home parent, breadwinner and general dogsbody role is not a pro-chef. We have had takeaway a lot, pasta many ways and numerous toasted sandwiches. Needless to say, the kids are keen for my incapacity to continue. Until a friend turned up with a healthy salad, I’d not seen a green veg in a while.


Though I'm not one for following the latest style (I'm a jeans and a T-shirt kind of girl), I have been missing the options and variety of my ordinary wardrobe. The plus sides are I've "had" to shop online for new leisure wear which would normally be an unnecessary expense and I can justifiably slob out in comfort. Living in active wear whilst in cast is  ironic and I love that. Leopard print tracksuit bottoms anyone?! The Limbo™ is my new best friend…a giant plastic bag with rubber seal that sits above the knee. It might be a fashion statement low but hey, I can shower now! 

I can't really list it as a true negative or a gleaming positive but I'd be properly screwed if it weren't for the NHS. The doctors and nurses in A&E were amazing and, even if it took a couple of weeks to get it right, the clinic team were brilliant - nurse Trish, I'm talking about you! All hail the incredible people who were rushed off their feet helping me and many others. (Note to self: debate on the NHS not appropriate for this it for another day.)

For those who are incapacitated I have new found empathy. The frustration can be overwhelming and I could go on and on with dismal yet insignificant grey tales. The rallying of my support crew has saved my sanity.  My boot has been upgraded to a plaster cast, hooray for the purple colour if nothing else. Friends, family, (anyone who’ll listen) please don’t abandon me. Only another 4 or so weeks to go…