Peg Leg Chronicles: Beaches, Braces, & Bureaucracy

The two days after the Fourth of July were absolute torture.

I injured my knee badly enough that I spent Sunday and Monday doing what I was supposed to be doing: resting, icing, compressing, elevating, and trying to get the swelling under control. There was quite a bit of inflammation, so while there was definitely some pain, that was my bigger focus.

The immobilizer, though...my goodness.

I don't think I appreciated just how difficult it is to not be able to bend your knee at all. It throws everything else out of whack. Your hips hurt. Your back hurts. Everything takes more effort, and I suddenly found myself moving at about one-tenth my normal speed.

What surprised me most wasn't the pain. It was the boredom.

I genuinely don't know how people enjoy sitting around doing nothing. I love reading. I really do. But by the end of those two days I didn't even want to read anymore. I didn't want to watch a show. I didn't want to scroll on my phone. I didn't want to do anything except get up and go *do* something.

I honestly felt like I was going to crawl out of my skin.

Thankfully, Altan has been a real trooper through all of this. We've been adjusting our routine a bit. Instead of long daily walks, I've been taking him for a longer walk every other day, and on the days in between we head out into the yard for about twenty minutes of fetch. I've also been leaning heavily on sniffing games and mental enrichment. I think people sometimes forget that dogs don't just need physical exercise—they need mental exercise too. Fifteen minutes of really working their brain or following scents can tire them out just as much as another mile of walking. So we've been making the best of our temporary limitations.

Tuesday felt like one giant administrative headache.

I spent what felt like half the day trying to complete an international wire transfer. Normally I can do it through my banking app, but for whatever reason that wasn't an option this time, so it turned into driving around from place to place trying to get everything sorted out.

Of course, all of that is compounded by the giant peg-leg brace.

I can't drive with it on, so every stop means taking the brace off, carefully maneuvering my leg into the truck, driving, climbing back out, putting the brace back on, and then hobbling into wherever I need to go. None of it is difficult exactly... It's just annoying. And slow!

Oh my goodness, I can't believe how much slower I move wearing that thing.

Wednesday was my orthopedic appointment, and it went exactly the way I expected.

There's only so much a doctor can tell you without imaging, so he confirmed what I already knew: I need an MRI.

It also reminded me how much I miss the healthcare systems in some of the other countries where I've lived.

I still remember going to an orthopedic specialist in Turkey because I had persistent shoulder pain. No referral. No appointment. I simply walked in, saw the orthopedic doctor, he examined my shoulder, ordered an MRI himself, walked me over to the MRI machine, then walked me back to his office afterward to review the results with me right then and there.

When Joe was having trouble breathing because of issues with his nose, he walked into the hospital, saw the specialist, had a scope done, had an EKG, blood work, chest X-rays, met with the anesthesiologist, and they were ready to do surgery that afternoon. We were actually the ones who asked to wait until the next day so we could go home, get prescriptions filled, and prepare for his recovery.

Every time I experience the American healthcare system, I can't help but make comparisons.

Don't get me wrong—I am incredibly grateful that I have insurance, that I have access to good medical care, and that this injury isn't causing me financial panic. I know how fortunate I am.

But it is hard not to laugh a little when the process is, "Go see the doctor so the doctor can tell you that you need the MRI you already knew you needed...then schedule the MRI and possible have to wait months for each of your appointments."

The rest of Wednesday disappeared into exactly that.

Scheduling the MRI.

Scheduling physical therapy.

Calling around trying to establish a primary care doctor.

Looking for an eye doctor.

Calling one number only to get transferred to another number, then another person, who transfers you back to the office you originally wanted.

By the time I finished, I desperately needed to get outside.

Kathy had suggested an easier walk for Altan and me—a paved trail that would be much more forgiving while my knee heals.

Naturally, about five minutes after getting there I spotted a little gravel trail heading toward the water and immediately thought, "Well...that looks interesting."

So much for staying on the easy path.

Because dogs are supposed to stay on leash there, I kept Altan's leash tucked underneath his harness so I technically had it with me, but once we wandered away from the main path I let him run.

Almost immediately he spotted a group of geese, charged into the water after them, and while it normally would have been hilarious, all I could think was, "Oh great...someone's probably going to see this and I'm going to get in trouble." There seem to be so many rules everywhere.

A little farther down the trail we found an actual beach along the Columbia River.

Getting down the short hill to the sand was...interesting.

I ended up sitting down and basically crab-walking backwards while keeping my injured leg perfectly straight in the brace. It wasn't graceful. But it worked. And it was absolutely worth it.

Altan spent the next hour launching himself through the shallow water chasing his frisbee. He wasn't even running anymore. He looked like a dolphin, just leaping out of the water over and over again.

I laughed so hard watching him. By the time we left, I already knew I wanted to come back.

Thursday and Friday were supposed to be really hot, and I was already picturing bringing a towel, some lunch, and just spending a few hours sitting on that little beach while the dogs played.
Thursday started with one of the things I'd been looking forward to all week: picking up my new knee brace.

This thing is an impressive piece of equipment. I feel like I've traded in my peg leg for some sort of techy kinkwear. Maybe I'm trying out steampunk for a little while.

Since I was already downtown, I decided to stop by the Q Center.

I'd been trying to figure out their events online, but their website is in the middle of a redesign and there were two different calendars that didn't seem to match. I couldn't tell which one was right, so I figured I'd just pop in, introduce myself, and ask.

I'm so glad I did.

Everyone there was absolutely wonderful. They gave me a tour of the center, showed me the new website they're working on, and talked about everything they're doing for the LGBTQ+ community. As much as I love the idea of traveling around in my van for months at a time, I also want Portland to become home base. I want this to be the place I come back to between adventures, which means building friendships and becoming part of a community.

That's never happened particularly naturally for me. I'm not really the type to strike up a conversation with a stranger and suddenly leave with a new best friend and exchanged phone numbers. I tend to connect with people through organizations—churches, volunteer work, community groups—so the Q Center feels like it could become one of those places.

I asked if they needed volunteers, and the first thing they mentioned was staffing their table during Portland Pride. Greeting people, handing out water, answering questions, and just being a friendly face.

Now, spending five hours making conversation with strangers is definitely not my natural habitat. It'll drain my social battery faster than just about anything else. But it's also something I can absolutely do if it helps, so I signed up.

Long term, I'm even more interested in some of their other volunteer opportunities. They have a gender-affirming closet that needs help organizing donations and appointments, a library they're cataloging, and office work that honestly sounds right up my alley.

That evening I talked to Jesse next door and asked if he'd mind me taking Ragnar to the little beach I'd found the day before since it was supposed to be so hot. He was thrilled with the idea.

Yesterday the three of us headed back. The new brace made an incredible difference. Being able to bend my knee a little made walking so much easier, and getting down to the beach wasn't nearly the production it had been the day before.

Altan and Ragnar could not have been more different.

Altan wanted me to throw the frisbee every three seconds. If I wasn't throwing it, he was sitting in front of me wondering why I wasn't throwing it.

Ragnar, on the other hand, couldn't have cared less about the frisbee. He entertained himself for hours—running through the water, digging, exploring, sticking his whole head underwater and then seeming genuinely surprised that he couldn't breathe.

Watching the two of them together was hilarious.

We stayed for about four hours, and for most of that time I had the entire place to myself. I had my headphones on, music cranked up, and somewhere along the way I committed fully to a one-man karaoke show while throwing frisbees for Altan.

At one point I happened to glance across the river and realized someone had apparently been listening for who knows how long.

I was embarrassed for about five seconds.

Then I thought, "You know what? This person doesn't know me. I'll probably never see them again."

So I kept right on singing and rocking my air guitar, cracking voice and all.

Today I'm finally heading back to the gym for the first time since hurting my knee. It'll be a very modified workout—mostly seated upper-body lifting until physical therapy gives me the okay to do more. The doctor also wants me back on a stationary bike as soon as I can bend my knee far enough, so hopefully that won't be too far off.

After that I'm planning to check my mail and wander through Portland's Mississippi Street Fair.

For now, my adventures are just going to look a little different.

Instead of scrambling up mountains and disappearing down rugged hiking trails, I'll be sticking to smoother paths, paved trails, and places where I can safely let my knee heal.

And honestly, that's okay.

This week reminded me that adventure isn't always about climbing higher or going farther. Sometimes it's finding a hidden beach because you wandered off the path. Sometimes it's walking into a community center on a whim and discovering a place where you might belong.

I still can't wait to get back into the mountains.

But until then, there are plenty of smooth trails to wander, neighborhoods to explore, communities to become part of, and apparently an audience of strangers willing to tolerate my one-man karaoke performances.Read more