This has not been the easiest year for me. Back in December, a major life-changer happened to me, which slowed me waaaay down in many, many ways.
But it’s seven months on now. I should be back up to speed. I should be dancing in the streets, getting fitter than ever, and having parties. Right? Well…
The dizziness is still there, but the latest MRI shows no reason for it, and I’m in limbo until the docs at Neurology decide where I really belong. In the meantime, I’m not sure if my surgeon’s office managed to get the paperwork back to disability on time – if it’s not there by tomorrow, I’m off disability which really sucks. Why? A job I went for, that I really wanted, was given to another person – and truly, it should have been given to that person, so there you go, but the steady income would have been nice. And then, on Friday, I broke my fibula, way down by my ankle.
Say what? How? Um…would you believe, walking? I didn’t trip over anything. I didn’t stumble. My ankle just refused, went POP! – and down I went, in absolutely the most pain I can ever remember being in. Of course, I was alone in the house. Isn’t that always the way? Hopping everywhere HURT like hell. Crawling was good, but slow – and hard to carry anything when you crawl. Seriously. So I suffered, with an icepack on my ankle, propped up, and watching the news until one of my sons came home.
An early trip to the doc on Saturday proved it to be broken, when I had been sure it was just a terrible sprain. No such luck (but then, terrible sprains are known to be harder to heal than broken bones…so…?). They gave me an airsoft cast, crutches, and a referral to an orthopedic surgeon. Everything I’m seeing on the internet tells me it’s a 6 to 8 week recovery time, with NO WEIGHT on the foot. That’s totally
rubbish and I refuse to follow this advice what I expected; but now that I have crutches, I hate them. HATE them.
Seriously? You give a girl, who’s already dizzy 85% of the time, a pair of crutches? Someone who’s not totally sure where the ground is at any given time, and you want me to take BOTH FEET off the ground and rely on TWO STICKS shoved into my now-aching armpits? SERIOUSLY?!!! Are you DELUSIONAL, or is it just me?
Yeah, there’ve been some falling issues. As in, using the damned crutches, I’ve totally lost my balance and fallen flat on my face. More than once. Luckily inside and on carpet, but still. Oh, and I’ve fallen into the bathroom sink, and sideways into a doorway…you know, now that I think about it, that’s a lot of falling for less than 24 hours. So I use the damned things but it’s crutch, step-step. Crutch, step-step. Not ideal and I recognize that.
I’m hoping against hell that the docs next week give me a walking cast of some sort. I am DESPERATE to keep both feet on the ground, and a wheelchair WILL NOT WORK in my house. It was built in the 1960’s – narrow hallways, 30″ doorways, and all. Not to mention the 16 years’ worth of clutter we’ve piled around the house. It’s all a trap for the unwary. (Why, suddenly, do I feel a need to get rid of 50% of our furniture?)
So while I’m in full pout mode, I’m trying to be a good girl. Getting up infrequently. Using my crutches properly most of the time. Keeping the leg elevated, and blah blah blah.
And I’m writing. It’s the only reason I can think of that I broke my ankle – the Universe wants me to sit on my ass and write instead of, oh, get a steady-paying job. And if disability is out the window? I keep telling the Universe that threats don’t make a writer more productive. At least, they don’t make THIS writer more productive.
I’m trying hard not to snarl and bite at my family, especially my poor hubby who did NOT need me crippled at this point in time. He’s feeling quite put-upon, even while he realizes I feel the same thing a thousand times more than he does.
So I’m saving snarling and biting for my work. Since I don’t get fancy cable (at almost $70/month, oh come on – it’s a time-wasting luxury), I only watch a couple soap operas during the day. The rest of my time (since I won’t be cleaning house any time soon) will be spent writing. I’m a captive to my work.
All in all, I’m okay with that. I just wish I didn’t have to go through the pain process. I’ve had more than enough of that this year.
I guess there’s only one thing left to do today…oh, hubby….could you please pour me a glass of wine? </end rant>
~ ~ ~