I have been practicing as a physiotherapist since 2014. Before that, I had to go through my own rehabilitation journey following a traumatic ankle injury when I was 16. However, the memory of my own injury has faded over the years and I had forgotten what it was like to have your life suddenly change in a minute. As a physiotherapist I can only see my patients for so long during a treatment, and because of this, I only get a small glimpse of their everyday struggles following injury. This year I was reminded of the emotional, mental and physical impacts of a serious injury when my own partner suffered a catastrophic knee injury.
The intent of this story is to remind people that a person's rehabilitation journey doesn’t just start in physiotherapy - it starts the minute the injury happens. I also want to emphasize the impact an injury has on all facets of someone’s life, and not just on the individual themselves, but also on their family and closest relationships.
On April 3, 2021, my partner Justin and I went camping down Sylvester Road in Mission. We had just bought dirt bikes the month before and wanted to take them out on a maiden voyage before summer. It was a rainy British Columbia day and the roads were muddy and slick. Justin’s bike stalled just over a bridge. I was a little ahead waiting for him. I heard his bike turn on and then turn off again. I waited a little longer and heard nothing. I decided to turn back to see if he was having difficulties kick-starting his bike. I found him on his back, holding his leg and screaming in pain. His bike was in pieces a few meters away from him.
A little too much gas on just the right surface, mixed with a planted leg with just the right amount of rotation was all it took for Justin’s leg to break.
My first aid and physiotherapy knowledge went out the window at that moment. I somehow managed to bike back to our camp to call for an ambulance, pick up Justin’s truck and then drive back to him. We then waited, not so patiently, under a tarp in the rain for two and a half hours for an ambulance to get him out of there.
I assumed he was going to get a plaster cast slapped on him and then we would laugh about the absurdity of that afternoon together that same evening. A couple of hours later I learned that Justin needed emergency surgery. I didn’t see him again for two weeks.
Justin suffered extensive comminuted (more than two pieces - ouchie!) tibial plateau and fibular head fractures, and an avulsion fracture of his tibial tuberosity. He was moved from Mission Memorial Hospital to Abbotsford Regional Hospital for surgery the day of his injury. But here comes the pandemic twist - he was not allowed any visitors at all due to COVID-19 (my heart goes out to all of the other families who have had similar experiences in the past two years). Not being able to be physically present for a loved one when they are in pain is very difficult. And I was reminded of how important social support is, not just words of encouragement, but the importance of eye contact and physical touch. Due to surgical delays and OR times, Justin was unable to get surgery until April 6th, at which point his leg was too swollen to have an internal fixation and unfortunately had to receive an external fixation instead. He then had to wait another week for the final surgery, an internal fixation.
During this two-week stretch between his admission and discharge, I saw my partner’s happy-go-lucky personality fade, his optimism waver, his goofy voice flatten. He lived on the surgical overflow unit, in a cornered area without a window, functioning clock or wifi. He was served a daily cocktail of strong pain medication and was not allowed to eat during the day on the off chance that he could be prepped for surgery. While he was lonely, sleep deprived, and very medicated, he was told by his doctors that his injury was life changing, that he would never be able to walk again without a limp, that he would require a knee replacement at a young age and that he would have to live with chronic pain for the rest of his life. As a healthcare practitioner myself, I do understand that all possible consequences should be discussed with a patient, but I was shocked by the delivery of this information and the words that were used.
While he was hospitalized I spent all hours of the day texting and calling him. I listened to him struggle with his pain and break down from the realization of how this injury could impact him. All I could do from afar was listen and try to keep his spirits up. His family and I sent care packages during his stay to help him feel love and connection and to give him some sort of entertainment during his long days waiting for surgery.
I struggled a lot mentally while he was in the hospital - realizing that his injury really could change his life and significantly impact the activities he liked to do on his own and those that we enjoyed as a couple. I began to panic about how much help he would need during the first few months out of the hospital and how I would be able to be there for him and also go to work. I began to feel the pressure (that no one was putting on me but myself) of being both his girlfriend and possibly his physiotherapist. How could I manage both and do each well? Would our relationship be able to survive this? Cue the downward spiral!
When Justin was finally discharged two weeks later, I ignorantly expected him to leave the hospital on crutches and hop towards our getaway car. But I was told by his OT and PT the day before that he was not “mobilizing well.” To a physiotherapist that means the person needs a lot of assistance. But as his partner I just didn’t understand at all. This was Justin - the guy who could hike up a mountain in a pair of skater shoes and jeans. So I chose not to believe them.
To this day I cannot shake the picture of him exiting that hospital. He had shrunk, both physically and spiritually. He had lost maybe 20 lbs, his hair was greasy and his skin was grey, and he had dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. He was visibly upset - sad, frustrated and very angry. He lacked the strength to lift himself out of his wheelchair and required three people to physically put him into the car.
The first night home was an emotional one. At discharge Justin was given a wheelchair, walker, commode, bathtub bench and a bed transfer handle. All of these mobility aids were in his room for his arrival, next to his tupperware with his dirt bike gear. The dichotomy of this scene was overwhelming for him to say the least.
The next few days felt like years. That weekend was a huge adjustment for Justin and his family and me. We spent time cleaning and rearranging the house to allow Justin to move with ease, we learned his pain management routine, we created new routines for meals, and we spent a lot of time just practicing getting in and out of bed and to and from the bathroom. We also made a point of picking activities that made Justin feel “human” again, which he had told us he lost while he was in the hospital. There were a lot of tears those first few days, but also a whole hell of a lot of laughter. Over the next few months Justin’s spirit and strength returned, and although there were lots of ups and downs, he remained determined and optimistic about the future. His relationship with his family and friends grew stronger, and our own relationship flourished instead of being strained.
So how is Justin now? He has full range of motion, he can walk an hour and a half without discomfort, he has no limp, he sleeps well every night, and he can do most things that he enjoys without any issues. He actually got back on his dirt bike last month! And although he had to stay in first gear, it was a huge accomplishment both physically and mentally. He is currently starting to add weight to his exercise regimen, with a new goal being to run next summer.
Justin’s journey to recovery began the minute the ambulance doors closed.
As a patient, when information or opinions are shared with you soon after an injury, you have to take in that information, digest it, understand what perspective it is coming from, talk to others and educate yourself. When it comes to your health, be assertive. Understand your pain and learn to manage it well. Stay mobile when and where you can. Stay present and set realistic goals for yourself. You do not have to go it alone. Ask for help when you need it - reach out to your partner, family and friends. Let them be there to support you. And most importantly, strive for a good mindset and attitude, and beyond all else have patience with yourself and your body. Smile with the ups, and accept the downs. It is a long road, so celebrate all of your wins throughout the way.
As a partner, friend or family member of someone who is dealing with a traumatic injury, communication is key. Justin did need assistance and guidance when it came to physical rehab, but he told me he needed his girlfriend more. We set up boundaries in our relationship when it came to rehabilitation and always made an effort to check in with each other about how the other person was feeling. And again, reach out for help if you need it. You can’t be there for your partner if you are struggling yourself.
Helping people to overcome their injury and to navigate their rehabilitation is my passion. There is more to recovery than just the physical aspect. Every facet of someone’s life can be impacted - and I understand that. At FreeForm your voice will be heard and a holistic approach to your care will be taken. Also, please don’t wait to seek advice after an injury. At FreeForm virtual sessions are available and definitely encouraged. Are you at home immobile and a bit confused about what to do next? Give me a call! I can give you lots of strategies for managing your everyday tasks - finding a comfortable sleeping position, getting in and out of bed, etc. I can also prescribe exercises that you can still do with your injury so that you can maintain mobility and strength in the rest of your body.
I am here to help...from the very beginning.
