1) Go to the DMV.  I strolled in without an appointment and the line said it would take 90 minutes but when I rolled in with my crutches, the lady at the desk took pity on me and put me in the front of the line.  I’m sure people were pissed, but if they wanted to be in the front of the line so bad, go ahead and rupture your Achilles’.  It depends on how much you despise the DMV.

2)  Abuse the BART system.  The other day I found a loophole in the BART system.  Shawn dropped me off at the street elevator that takes you to the main platform at Embarcadero Station.  After asking a Muni attendant in the little glass booth where the elevator was and being completely ignored (bitch), I hobbled over to the BART attendee who told me to take the elevator in the middle of the station.  I again hobbled over to the elevator and pushed the “down” arrow.  When it arrived, I jumped in, almost barfed at the urine smell, and then pushed the button for the BART level.  Once the doors opened, I was at the platform and had not tagged my Clipper Card at all.  I got nervous that when I got to Walnut Creek, I would get in trouble but who would get mad at a girl on crutches, right?  I got to Walnut Creek and took the elevator to the street level and it dropped me outside of the gates.  I basically got a free ride and now I understand why I see perfectly non handicapped people riding the elevators.

3)  Go to bars (Part 1).  You know how annoying it is when you go to a bar and it’s so crowded or the bartender is SO COOL that it takes anywhere from 10 to 20 minutes for you to get a drink?  Well, with crutches, people gladly let you slide in to order your drink.  No problem.  They will also sometimes give you their bar stool which is also very kind of them.

4)  Go to bars (Part 2).  I am not a single woman, but if I were right now is the time to go to bars and meet hawt guyzz.  Here’s what you do: Wait till you see that hottie bo body near the bar door.  Then you hobble to the door and try to open it but kind of struggle with your crutches.  If he has a soul, he’ll help you open the door and BAM there’s your ice breaker.  Start planning your wedding the next day.

5)  Park ANYWHERE.  I got my temporary handicap parking placard almost immediately after my accident and man do I love it.  I am allowed to park in metered spaces for free, in blue or green painted curbs, handicap parking spaces, and permit parking only zones for as long as I like.  Also, if I roll into a gas station and there is more than one attendant working, they are obligated to pump my gas for me for free.  I haven’t tried that yet, but it’s nice knowing it’s there.  With my placard, we were able to park in the crowded North Beach area, anywhere downtown, and at the 7th and Fulton Safeway without the usual anxiety of not finding a parking space.  Hell yeah.

6)  Get on an airplane.  I took a flight to Seattle this weekend and kindly notified Virgin that I would need wheelchair service to the gate.  It was awesome.  I went straight to the front of the ticket counter, they called down for a wheelchair.  A nice man came and got me.  We zipped right through the security line and wheeled quickly to the gate.  at SFO, I didn’t even have to take off my shoe (singular).  I boarded the plane first which was also sweet.  Then, when we landed, there was another nice man standing there with a little whiteboard and a wheelchair that said “EMILY NEVEU” on it waiting for me at the gate to take me wherever.  I felt very special thank you kind sir.

7)  Go to an amusement park.  To be fair, I’ve never tried this.  But I have heard that you are allowed to go straight to the front of the line if you’re on crutches.  I’m into this.

8)  Make up stories about how you got your injury.  You will get asked close to 29384628346 times what happened to your leg and, at first, you’re excited to tell the traumatic story, but after a few hundred times, you want to headbutt anyone who asks you this question.  You will undoubtedly get so sick of this question, that you will begin to make up stories.  Warning: you will get a kick out of this, but the poor sap you’re telling it to will think you’re an asshole after he/she finds out you were lying.

9)  Go to three weddings in one month.  Be sure to plan your leg injury in the same month as all three of the weddings you’re invited to are.  Sure, you can’t get up and mingle, but people will come to you which is nice.  Also, if you hate dancing, you now have a valid excuse not to.  You will, however, get a lot of lap dances (no complaints).

10)  Use Safeway Grocery Delivery.  I have not been able to go to the grocery store and shop for food since my accident.  For those of you who know me, this is almost devastating because I like to cook/bake a lot.  Safeway does have a magical service where you go online, shop for food, then they deliver it to your door.  This is perfect for people who are injured or people who just hate the stress of being in a crowded grocery store.  I highly recommend.

In conclusion, these ten pros do not outweigh the cons of snapping off the largest tendon in your body.  But, if you’re going to do it and be on crutches, take advantage of it.  I’m trying to make some shitty lemonade out of the lemons  handed to me this year, so get off my back.

I’ve gotta say, I was KILLING IT in tennis this sesh.  My backhand was killing it, my returns were focused and I was getting really pumped.  Shawn hit a ball to me which I ran over to return, but someone’s tennis racket went rogue and slammed into the back of my left ankle.  I fell to the ground and spun around to cuss out the guy who threw a racket at me to find that there was no racket and no guy.  I sat there in a state of shock staring at my foot when I realized: holy shit I can’t move this thing.

Shawn helped me over to the bench and we assessed the situation.  I compared my two ankles–gently pushing on the back of my right ankle and feeling the tight resistance of a tendon pushing back at me, then pushing on my left ankle and feeling nothing there.  I turned to Shawn and declared, “I’m pretty sure I just ruptured my Achilles Tendon.  We have to go to the hospital.”  Right then, our friend Victor arrived and he had to turn right back around and leave because I ruined our tennis date.  Victor and Shawn somehow got me down a few flights of stairs and shoved me into the car.  I apologized over and over again for fucking everything up and then we were on our way.

It was then and only then that I began to cry.  I cried so hard that I hyperventilated.  The crying was not induced by physical  pain, but the pain of thinking about how much all of this was going to cost.  I do have insurance, but every experience I have ever had with them has been horrible.  My rates seem to keep rising but my coverage seems to keep shrinking.  I got so freaked out that I whipped out my insurance card and began to call phone numbers on the back to make sure that the ER I was headed to was covered by Blue Shield.

First of all, the main customer service line is only open Monday through Friday 9am – 5pm and is not open on holidays.  I tried the 24/7 nurse line listed below that.  After navigating through the phone menu, and screaming “OPERATOR!” over and over again into the automated system, I FINALLY got a nurse on the phone.

“HI PLEASE, I NEED TO GO TO A HOSPITAL BECAUSE I’M PRETTY SURE MY ACHILLES HAS TORN APART AND I NEED TO GET SOMEWHERE WHERE DO I NEED TO GO”

“Um, hello ma’am thank you for calling.  I understand you need help.  May I please have your zip code?”

“94122!”

“Okay thank you I’m going to search for an emergency room near you.”

“NO I’M NOT HOME I’M SOMEWHERE ELSE I JUST NEED TO KNOW WHAT EMERGENCY ROOM I CAN GO TO SO YOU WON’T CHARGE ME ONE MILLION DOLLARS.”

“Okay please bear with me my system is running a little slow today………Hmm that’s weird.  I think I have to start all over again.  Hang on……Okay so I keep typing in ‘Emergency room San Franicsco’ and it keeps clearing it out for some reason.  I don’t get it.  Okay I’m gonna try something else.”

Shawn was driving the car this entire time and we ended up at SF General Hospital when this idiot finally figured out that we could have gone to UCSF which was literally a few blocks from where I got hurt.  Whatever.  I’m at General, I’m gonna go here and then I hung up on that chick.

In case you’re not familiar with SF General, this is the place where homeless drunk people, gang violence victims, uninsured people, and people who jump off the Golden Gate Bridge on the SF side–not the Marin side go to seek medical help.  This place should have its own television show because it was the Wild Wild West out there.

After getting a medical wristband and getting propped up on a gurney, I was rolled into the “Zone 1″ hallway to wait for someone to send me to get X-Rays.  ”Zone 1″ should really be renamed “Shit Show” because this is where all the action is.  My friend Nicole is an ER nurse at General, so I’ve heard some stories, but now I REALLY get it.  Within the first minute of being in Shit Show 1, I saw a gentleman of 45 years or so (although, due to his certain drug habit and homelessness, he could have been 17 for all I know), with shoulder-length hair that was matted down with a mixture of sweat and blood from the open head wound he had suffered.  He ran out of a room screaming that he was going to “GET THAT MOTHER FUCKER BACK!” and he had somehow lost his shirt on the way.  His bare chest revealed several bleeding scratches that a rabid chicken would make if someone threw it at you and you caught it.  The armed guards put on surgical gloves and shuffled him back into his hospital room before that dude could get blood on me thank God.

After six hours of watching the newest hit reality television show called “The Real Shit Show Zone 1″, I was placed in a splint and told that I no longer have an Achilles Tendon and that I’d most likely not be able to walk on this bad boy for about three months.  Sweet.

Pic from a Vine that Shawn made

Getting up the stairs of our three story walk up apartment in crutches was comedic, to say the least.  I made it all the way to the top of the stairs before almost falling down.  Once I got there, I plopped myself down on the couch, elevated my leg, and asked for an alcoholic beverage please because I’ve earned it.

It’s been three days since my accident.  I haven’t taken the pain medication prescribed to me yet because I keep assuming that it will get worse.  I’ve developed little techniques to help me cope with having only one leg and, basically, no arms since I have to use both to operate my crutches.  I now carry a little backpack with me wherever I go.  If I want to fill up my water bottle, I have to put my empty bottle in my backpack, hobble to the water, fill it up, then put it back in my backpack, then go back and sit down.  I have to put things like beer in a mason jar and seal it up if I want to bring it back to my seat to enjoy.  Any food I would like to eat either has to be eaten in the kitchen where it was prepared, or placed inside a very secure Tupperware-like vessel so I can eat it at the dining room table.  I now have to wear dresses or skirts for three months because my pants won’t fit over my giant splint and JNCOs went out of style a while ago.  Getting in and out of cars is not a graceful thing for me right now, so I invested heavily in biker shorts that go under my dresses so I can get out of a car or sit like a dude and not worry about showing off my bits to the world.

After a few “God hates me” remarks, I’ve begun to find the humor of this whole thing.  I can laugh at how I am not a lady so I need to go buy skirts and girl stuff.  I can laugh at how I got my period just in time for all this shit to go down and I’m sure that is going to be weird.  I have definitely searched the internet for little walker things that I can prop my knee up and roll around*.

I have also started to learn how to ask for help with things.  I hate burdening people with minor stuff, but I literally can’t go and bring my plate of food to the table so can you please help me with that.  I had to ask the nurse in the ER to help me pee because I couldn’t pull my pants down.  Thank you kind nurse and, I’m sorry you had to see my white ass.

Day three was harder than day two but I’m hoping that laughter really is the best medicine therefore making day four easier than day three.  I may or may not have to have surgery and I may or may not have a hospital bill of one million dollars but right now I’m trying hard to focus on the positives like how I have the best friends and family and how Shawn is a total winner and is taking great care of me.  I’m hoping for a speedy recovery and if that doesn’t happen, there’s always pain medication.

*click here for example