Physical distancing? I guess I got a leg up on that one

It turns out that one way to prepare for a pandemic is to break your leg. I don't recommend it.

That said, while dealing with an accident that thoroughly disrupted my life and my family, I found ways to find the best parts of a dismal situation, while keeping my head straight while my body could not leave the house, let alone the couch where I convalesced.

Still, as I slowly healed, I saw the planet rapidly get sick.

In the last few weeks, as I hit one milestone of recovery after another I'm now walking, sort of, with the help of an elbow crutch everyone has moved indoors. Most of us arehousebound now, and we do not know when it will end.

I slipped and fell on black ice while walking across Memorial University's main campus on Jan. 29. That plaza it's the one near the phys ed building, the arts building and the library was clear and is usually well covered with salt, but that morning my eyes deceived me. An eyewitness said my left leg went above my waist before I flipped and landed on my right leg. I scarcely remember it at all.

It could have been depressing. I had other ideas

Before I knew it, I was in a cast (surgery came quickly, just five days later), and I found myself spending most of my waking hours on the couch in the living room, my leg propped up, my back flat.

The days turned into weeks. My wife and son were enormously supportive, but I was pretty much alone in my head for hours at a time.

It could have been depressing. I was determined from the first moments, however, that it would not be. I might have been partly inspired by the kindness of the people who instantly helped me when I fell, and I definitely leaned into my own "glass is half full" way of thinking. I made a conscious effort to find the positive things around me, and it turned out to be a critically important move.

It hasn't been easy. I found myself without control over my circumstances. Or so I thought. It was very easy to focus in fact, become overwhelmed by everything I could not do, from walking even a few feet to preparing my own food to doing simple household tasks.

So, I flipped the narrative. I deliberately looked for good things. They were so easy to find. A week after the accident, and a couple of nights after surgery was performed on my leg, I posted on Twitter a list of three things I was grateful for that day. I've been doing it every day since.

It's made the world of difference to my outlook.

Small things, tough times

I got the idea from my friend Suzette, and it's a fairly common practice. I just make a quick note of three things that made me feel better that day. They've ranged from people who drove me to hospital to friends who ran errands to homemade cookies to the little things that made me smile.

The smaller things, we're told, become hugely significant when times are tough.

We're all figuring out our new normal, and the coming months will be extraordinary, and no doubt difficult.

The value of this daily habit has increased as I've witnessed COVID-19 spread across the globe, turning into an inferno in some countries.

This includes Spain, where my wife has relatives in different parts of the country. It's been distressing. We waited for its inevitable descent to our own shores.

I can address one thing I've seen frequently on social media: a belief that Newfoundland and Labrador did not do anything about coronavirus until this month.

From my own experience, I know this is incorrect. Just after the ambulance brought me to hospital, the triage nurse asked me a series of questions, including whether I had just returned from outside the country. My eyebrow raised. "Is that about coronavirus?" I asked.

She looked up, a little surprised, I think, and said, yes, they were asking that now as a matter of course. Later, as I sat in the emergency waiting room between X-rays and treatment, I heard the nurses ask it of each patient they encountered at the wicket. Last week, I wrote about the unseen work of public health professionals. From that day in January, it was obvious to me that public health was on the case.

Figuring out the new normal

Keeping my wits about me has turned out to be critical. A couple of weeks ago, as I was mending and getting to the point where I can walk with an elbow crutch, a massive wave of self-isolation began. "You've had a jump on the rest of us," my colleague said. "If only I could jump," I replied.

We're all figuring out our new normal, and the coming months will be extraordinary, and no doubt difficult.

Adapting to change comes in stages; here's a video of me navigating our staircase in mid-February:

I've come to realize some things. First, downtime is good time. While I sometimes feel that I slept through February when you're cosy and relaxed on the couch, your body will put you into nap mode so it can better heal an injury I actually read quite a bit. I read widely, too. I indulged my curiosity. I binged or sampled shows I've heard about. I made the most of what was around me.

I learned there is great value in home comforts. Not being able to venture out anyway, I appreciated what was within reach. There were far more good things around me than I might have first thought.

Slowing down is a good thing. My wife and I realized an upside to our lifestyle: we caught our breath, and our family time together multiplied. The three of us have had many wonderful evenings together.

While I had been healing, I had my eye on the horizon. There were so many ordinary things I've wanted to do. I can't wait, for instance, to go out for dinner, meet up with friends, go for a swim, drop in on the library, see a movie, get back to my desk at the office.

All of those goals remain unchecked. Indeed, everythingwill need to wait, as we work through a long, uncertain period that is already changing us all.

Read more from CBC Newfoundland and Labrador