Broken Ankle and Mardi Gras

We may earn money or products from the companies mentioned in this post.

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to go to Mardi Gras? What about traveling with a broken bone?
These two things don’t seem to be in the same category and yet they both made for an extremely memorable trip. Literally, I tripped down the stairs and broke my ankle… 24 hours before we left for New Orleans!

Peter was a gem through it all. From rushing down the stairs in his robe and picking me up off the floor to holding my hair back as I vomited from the painkillers in the ER this trip was bound to be a test of our relationship. Within just a few hours I was placed into a half cast, told not to put any weight on my ankle, but that I was allowed to fly. With so many restrictions it was at least good to hear that our trip wasn’t all downhill.

I wasn’t looking forward to crutching around New Orleans and dreaded the idea of attempting to make the most out of something that was already a disaster. Thankfully with the help of my parents, we were able to obtain a knee walker and gain a sigh of relief. After some rest and jockeying of apartments, Peter loaded the car up with all of our stuff and off we went.
Security wasn’t as bad as our adventures with the drug-sniffing dog it was just a slight learning curve, mostly for TSA agents. The biggest learning curve for us, was when the pain medication had worn off along with the adrenaline of the fall. I was officially feeling the break.
While our original plan of places to visit got knicked, we were determined not to let this ruin our vacation. After the first night without any pain medication, the pain was building deeper inside of me and my mental status was crumbling. This was the moment that would define how strong our relationship was. Some people it’s life or death, for Peter and myself it was my blood-curdling screams of pain begging for him to take the cast half cast off.
I sat in the WWII museum with my head in Peter’s arms trying to hold on to every vocal sound as I cried from the extreme pain. I took Tylenol but that was not helping. We went down to Bourbon Street with my knee walker where Peter doubled fisted it through the celebrations at night, mostly because I couldn’t drive/walk and hold my slushies at the same time. All alcohol aside, Peter knew I needed some relief, and despite his fears, he unwrapped the half cast to relieve some of the pressure I was experiencing from the swelling.
With some relief, we set out to find some things to do in NOLA. As this whole theme goes, we learned quickly that knee walkers don’t do well on cobblestone and that after about 5 mins of navigating the sidewalks I was wishing for a new leg altogether. While it wasn’t the perfect trip to NOLA it was definitely one that helped define not only our relationship but a trip that I caution all who have a physical disability to be prepared for.

The Portly Passengers provides plus size inclusive travel tips and advice for anyone who is looking to explore the world. From seat sizes on airplanes to exploring museums, restaurants, and nature Melissa & Peter have the experience and stories to help guide you through it.