Step Aside

Note: I've just finished Terrible Virtue, a novelization of the birth control advocate, Margaret Sanger, by Ellen Feldman. I have my feminist rant on. Be warned.

There was an article last year in my daughter's high school newspaper about walking in the hallways at the school. One of the young women at the school did an experiment at the school where she walked down the middle of the hallways and did not move out of the way. She observed what happened and then wrote about it. (I wish I could find the article online, but I can't yet. Argh. If I find it, I'll post it.)

The guys in the school were less likely to move out of the way for women. I am guessing other social scientists have studied this phenomena as well, that the more powerful people perceive themselves to be within a pecking order (i.e., upperclass white males), the less likely they were to move out of the way. The less powerful step aside.

Imagine the White House. If Obama (or any of his 43 predecessors) walks down a crowded hallway, my guess is that the group would part like Moses parted the Red Sea. Everyone would push to the side and let him pass. I doubt there is any formal written etiquette about this like royal families around the globe have. The Queen walks in front, her consort walks ten steps behind. While the President is a big example, smaller ones abound on a smaller scale, but who is to say who is more or less powerful when two people cross paths know nothing about each other? Race, gender, age, class and mental capacity take over, and not in that order. Some people can't read social cues, and will plow through a crowd stepping on toes. Most civilized people will give elderly people with a walker space. But what happens when two middle age people cross paths? Who steps aside for whom?

Here I am conducting my own little social science project with my crappy leg. I can walk, and I make a huge effort not to limp. In my effort not to limp, I pretty much walk in a perfectly straight line, no bobbing and weaving gracefully around people like a basketball star. Think of me as Frankenstein with his straight ahead, lock-legged walk. I bet people get out of his way.

I've recently been to airports, the grocery store, restaurants, walking the dog in the park, etc. Since I can't easily side step to the left or right, I am the one not stepping aside. At times, I feel like ass taking up more than my share of the sidewalk or aisle at Bartell's.

Then there are times where walking is like a game of chicken: who will budge first? Not me. I might stop in my tracks, but I don't step to the side. This isn't intended to be a power play. Once a middle aged man of color stepped off the sidewalk to let me pass. I wanted to apologize to him: I am not being a jerk. I just can't move that way that fast. 

What did I learn? The people least likely to step aside for me are middle-aged white women. I almost got plowed over a few times at different airports this week. Men will look at me and when they see I am not moving, they will step aside. I don't think these women are committing micro-aggressions, but rather they might assume a mutual, half step aside from both parties. I can't yet do that dance.

Cat Walk and Turning a Corner

Bike Time: 45 minutes 

Distance: 8.73 miles

I was walking the dog with Jack this morning. I am just returning to walking the dog, and only for short walks. We crossed the street at a stop sign, and cars were waiting as I hobbled across. At these times, I am very self conscious of my gait and my speed. The other time I feel self-conscious is when I walk into physical therapy and Evan watches me walk. I feel like a combo of a fashion model on a catwalk and a golden retriever at the Westminster Dog Show. (At least the dogs get a treat after they are evaluated.) Jack said I was limping less. He is comparing my street walking to my gait first thing in the first thing in the morning. When I get out of bed, I have pirate leg -- my left leg is unbending and stiff. As my leg warms up, it bends and I look less like Captain Hook. My street walk looked good today, but my right leg still moves faster than my left, especially when I am trying to cross the street. I can tell, even if an untrained eye can't.

I do feel like I've turned a corner and am feeling better. Last week, I ran into friends around town, and they asked how I was doing. Each time I said I was feeling better, and I meant it. I was sincerely feeling optimistic. Normally, I would smile and grit my teeth. Now I just smiled. My plum (the fluid and stuffiness in my knee) is getting smaller and my range of motion is improving. I am less stiff and at times, my knee feels loose like a normal knee.

On the way back home from walking Fox, we stopped at the coffee shop around the corner. I saw a man in his thirties with a leg brace and a compressing wrap around his knee. I said hello and asked what happened.

"I tore my ACL," he said.

"Me too!" I said. "I am nine weeks post-surgery."

"I had surgery two days ago," he said. "They are repairing my previously torn ACL."

"Ouch," I said. It turns out he tore his ACL eight years ago, and had it repaired with an allograft. The repair didn't last, and he needs two surgeries now to fix it, the first to repair the allograft holes, and then to install the new ACL. There are two and half months between surgeries. I don't think I could stand it.

"You are going through this twice. Is it worth it?" I asked. I met another man at physical therapy last week who was on his second ACL repair. My concern isn't that this will fail, but rather there is a lot of effort in the healing process and a lot of time not being fully functional.

"Totally worth it," he said. "I play soccer and snowboard. And you look great! You can walk downhill!" I was basking in his kindness, especially from someone who has been down this track. Walking downhill is hard, and I am walking down hills, even if it takes forever.

After we walked on, I asked Jack what he thought about having a second surgery.

"The guy was probably in his early thirties, and the thought of never snowboarding or playing soccer  again for his entire life was probably unacceptable," he said. As much as this recovery is a challenge, I can see Jack's point. At times, it is hard to remember why I had the surgery. It is hard to see long-term when I've never been in this spot before. Bizarrely, I feel optimistic when I see someone going through the surgery twice. They must feel the payoff is worth the price.