so two weeks ago my kneecap spontaneously dislocated. no one really knows whats up with that. i get raised eyebrows and “but what did you do”s every time someone sees my splinted leg and asks what happened. so the orthopedist says this stays on for six weeks. then, you can do physiotherapy and we’ll hope this never happens again.

ok, great. so the good news is i CAN put weight on it. the doctor in the hospital gives me a pair of crutches, smiles at me like it’s not 6am and i haven’t been sitting in the er all night, says Just In Case. that’s great too.

the bad news?

i live on the third floor of a building with no elevator.

the building i work in has three floors and one elevator on the opposite side from where we’re located, which can only be accessed with a special key anyway. oh, and there’s construction going on this summer - so actually, the elevator isn’t even going to be accessible. plus, it doesn’t go to the third floor anyway, which is where my classroom is, at the end of the hallway.

that’s fine, though. i take public transit to and from work every day. at least the metro stations have elevators, right? well…14 out of about 70 stations in the city have them. i’m lucky that my local one does - the station i transfer at for work doesn’t have one to the platform i have to transfer to. the one i leave work from has three flights of stairs from the platform to the terminal.

so, keeping in mind i have to go up and down the stairs at work by the whims of my children and supervisors, and the staff room where i have to eat my lunch is on a different floor than my classroom, i’m averaging 20+ flights of stairs every single day. and cannot bend one of my knees, which is at the end of each day about as swollen as it was the day i dislocated it. my doctor prescribed me a month’s worth of naproxen, which my pharmacist was shocked by. she said, usually you only need this for a week. until the swelling goes down.

but the swelling is managed with some ice here and there anyway. so i’ll live. what really hurts is when i’m on the bus - because my commute to work involves two busses and two trains each way - and people trip over my leg because they just aren’t paying attention. i am at the mercy of kind strangers who notice and stand protectively over my leg, when i am lucky enough that upon boarding a bustling bus someone even gives me their seat. otherwise, i’m forced to stand on one leg to avoid putting too much force on my injured one each time we hit a bump.

(three times since my injury i have been the only person to offer my seat to another person with limited mobility on the bus, which every time the person in question has denied while everyone else’s eyes remain down and mouths remain shut.)

and lets not forget - i live in a city where everything is built atop huge fucking hills. at the top of one is the hospital. just below that, my university’s campus and student clinic.

am i just complaining for the sake of complaining? a little bit. but mostly i am thinking about how the inaccessibility around me is actively making it more difficult for me to heal from what is, spontaneity aside, a fairly common injury. i can’t quit my job. i need to attend my appointments. were it not june, i’d have to go to class. i am incredibly lucky to have friends who are willing to help with groceries and laundry, which would be particularly difficult for me due to the number of stairs i’d have to climb with my hands full, but if i didn’t - those are not things i could stop doing for myself and expect to survive for six weeks either, especially when i’m working 40 hours a week with 2+ hours of commuting a day.

anyway. maybe there’s not a lot the average person can do to help people with limited mobility. but giving up your seat on the bus is a pretty good first step and always has been.