The Unexpected Gifts of an Injury

See Suzie’s Top 3 Takeaways

Like most San Franciscans without a car, I’m used to walking everywhere. But that part of my routine came to a screeching halt in June 2017 when I fell while crossing a busy downtown street.

I was hurrying to catch a streetcar when I stumbled, landing on my hands and kneecaps. It didn’t hurt much in the moment — the ground didn’t even break the skin. Kind strangers rushed over to help me, and I was grateful but embarrassed by the fuss.

Because I was active and in excel­lent health, I didn’t think much of the accident at the time. My knees seemed fine except for some minor swelling.

Four days later, however, massive inflammation and burning pain developed behind my knees, making walking and other everyday movements all but impossible.

For the next seven months, I couldn’t walk more than two blocks at a time.

Suddenly homebound and isolated, I became unbearably lonely. I’d never been compelled to seek out friends or connections before, but I felt an aching absence where a larger support network could be. Inexplicably, the emotional pain was even more intolerable than the physical pain — and I realized that, at 61, it was time to engage with the world in a new way.

Roots

When the pain started, the doctors said it was my immune system kicking in to heal the injury; there was nothing to do but wait it out.

Meanwhile, my minor injury had become a major deal. If I tried to walk through the pain, it intensified. I couldn’t do any of my normal activities, like hiking, Zumba, or Pilates.

So I sat around the house icing the back of my knees and taking ridiculous amounts of ibuprofen, with little relief.

Anxiety and depression quickly set in. Is this how the rest of my life will be? I wondered. I’d never been one to shed tears, but I started crying daily. I felt so alone.

Before the accident, I’d maintained a small social circle. I didn’t really have friends — I’d always been content by myself. When I socialized, it was with family members, coworkers, and my husband, Nicholas.

And this already-limited social network had shrunk just months before I fell. First my mother died, in February 2017, and then I retired a few months later from a very social career in corporate marketing.

Now, thanks to the injury, I had little contact with anyone outside my family. And I didn’t want to overburden my loved ones with my problems, which included grief over the loss of my mother and the pains of adjusting to life after retirement. I didn’t share the full depths of my depression with anyone.

A New Leaf

After what felt like an interminable ­period of loneliness, I willed myself to get out of the house. I started by hobbling out and catching the bus to a coffee shop. I’d sit alone at a table for hours just to be around other human beings.

Next, I challenged myself to chat with strangers in the coffee shop or on the bus. It felt awkward, but I was so hungry for connection. I didn’t make any real friends, but it was a start.

Two months after I fell, Nicholas encouraged me to work with a personal trainer to keep my muscles from atrophying. When I made my way through the gym doors, my eyes welled up with tears. I was happy to be back in a social environment.

At the gym, I became inquisitive about people’s lives. The more I conversed with those around me — even superficially — the better I felt. I’d ask, “What sort of work do you do?” or say, “I love what you’re wearing.” Sometimes I’d chat with others about workouts.

It felt easier to connect with people in this setting, where we were working ­toward similar goals in a shared space. Even though I’d come to the gym to improve my physical body, it was my social transformation that I came to appreciate the most.

Bit by bit, my efforts to connect with others were helping me become more thoughtful. I started noticing and acknowledging the people around me: the women who tidied the locker room; the barista who made my coffee; the guy who cleaned up trash around our condo. Often their faces lit up at the connection, and we’d both smile.

Branching Out

In early 2018, the pain behind my knees gradually faded away — as if by magic. At first I feared the pain would return, but weeks passed with no recurrence. After four months, I trusted that I was finally healed.

I believe my efforts to connect with others and find peace within myself may have helped bring me to a place of balance and safety where I could heal. And with the pain behind me, I had more energy for developing connections, so new friendships flourished. My early coffee-shop visits hadn’t yielded lasting relationships, but I started having better luck through Meetup groups.

Meetup’s Shut Up & Write! group ­introduced me to other passionate ­writers, and I eventually felt comfortable enough to share a piece I’d written about caring for my mother as she was dying.

Thanks to the Retired Women Who Love to Travel group, I developed a close friendship with a woman whose dream was to go salmon fishing. I researched and arranged a trip for us as a surprise. She was delighted and we had a wonderful time together, even though the rough sea made fishing difficult.

As my social circle widened, I started trying activities further outside my comfort zone. I first assumed I’d hate pickle­ball, but I was happily proven wrong. Now I play with a lively group of friends.

I also began volunteering for Friendship Line, a 24/7 telephone helpline for older Californians experiencing loneliness and isolation. Initially, I feared the job would be difficult, but I discovered that I’m an empathetic listener. Many people I talk to tell me they have nothing to do all day or that no one else will talk to them. I listen, encourage them, and assure them that things can get better. I’ve been there myself, and I know it’s true.

Continued Growth

Today, I’m grateful to be pain-free, and to have the support of my family and a mixture of close and casual friends who call me an outgoing and social person — adjectives I now embrace.

Although recovering from the fall was physically and emotionally difficult, I value the lessons I learned from that experience. They’ve helped me develop a greater sense of empathy and a stronger desire to support those around me. Forging deeper, more meaningful connections with others was integral to my physical recovery, and I’m confident that maintaining these bonds will continue to support my health in the future.

These days, one of my favorite activities is leading hikes of four to eight miles through San Francisco’s fascinating neighborhoods. It’s a great way for me to be outside, stay active, and connect with new people — three opportunities I will never again take for granted.

Suzie’s Top 3 Takeaways

1. Prevent future falls. “I practice yoga balancing poses, and I strengthen my core with Pilates and weight-bearing exercises.” (Try these tips and exercises to improve your balance.)
2. Get outside. Suzie recommends activities such as hiking, gardening, plein air painting, and outdoor tai chi.
3. Take the initiative to make new friends. This can be harder to do as we age because people may already have established friendship groups, but it’s worth trying. “I keep an open attitude about meeting people.”

This article originally appeared as “Healing Connections” in the January/February 2025 issue of Experience Life.