Like a Bratwurst

That’s how Hubs described my foot to the Doc yesterday.  No joke.  Break is still there.  Originally Doc wanted to keep me in casts for 4 more weeks.  Yikes!  But Hubs, Doc and I realized just how much the swelling went down MINUTES after they removed the cast.

So now I am back in my original splint.  For now.  Hopefully this can prove to be a better fit for my monster swelling.  I’m also scared of my foot being less immobilized now.  I just want to do what’s right for my foot.

When I went in two weeks ago, when they removed the first cast to X-ray, etc, I knew I needed the cast back one.  My foot was just too tender.

This time?  My foot was doing much better at the appt.  However it has been so sensitive/tender since yesterday afternoon.  It may just be the weather.  But I’m scared.  Should I go back and have it casted again?  My heel hurts too.  This is new.  But Hubs readjusted the splint this morning…So far…So good.

And my new permawheels?  New motors are in.  And we’re up and running.

Score two for the home team.

Wednesday, only 72 hours away…

Wednesday is a BIG day for me…

Having my ankle looked at again.  Cast off.  X-rays.  Cast on? (Hopefully not!)

Then the wheelchair guys are coming to fix my new chair that has been out of commission, ironically, for as long as my foot has been broken.  Purely a coincidence.

It has been an uphill battle with this chair.

Wish me good luck(s).

“I must be coming down with something”

You know that feeling at work when you are a) not sick yet and b) feel like you may be coming down with something?  Ideally you can try to prepare yourself.  I oscillate between working a little slower, or trying to get everything done because I have a *feeling* that I may not be coming back tommorrow.  Or the day after.

Having a broken bone is nothing like that.  It hurts and I think about taking it easier.  Maybe a 5 minute break with my BFF Google.  Maybe an early lunch or snack.  Maybe a trip to the water cooler.  Only I won’t *feel better* after a break or a day off. It will be maybe weeks(?) before I feel better.  I’d consider taking a self-care day but nothing will really change. 

Today completes 5 weeks of having a broken ankle.  I think that Doc said something about 8-12 weeks.  I am only about halfway there…

This is hard.  Way harder than permawheels.  Either that or I’m just used to the later.  I want to take a bath with bath salts and lavender fragranced bubblies.  That sounds like perfection to me.  Hubs asked me what he can do to help me feel better, and that was my first suggestion.  Only I can’t.

I’m tempted in this desperation to soak in the tub.  With my cast.  And pay a $100 emergency room co-pay to have another one put on.  But I would never do that.  Clearly.  And one $100 co-pay to have my foot diagnosed because my wheelchair broke down and I had to wait till Hubs brought my other one to me after work and I was otherwise stranded was enough.

Thankyouverymuch.

So to those who have (had) a case or two of the broken bones (when) does it get better???

And please, please do not say 8-12 weeks…

Were you trying to walk or something?

Umm no, buddy.  Please don’t ask me that.  Anyone.  Okay?

An acquaintance asked me that in reference to how I broke my ankle.  In public.  Someone who sees me weekly -in a wheelchair.

How did I fall?  Well let’s just say it is the first and last time I did or did not do something in a moving vehicle.  Always wear your seatbelts kids.

To say I was urked by this remark is putting it in light terms.  I think this individual meant no foul play, but ouch.  I have fallen in my permawheels state of living numerous times.  Off the toilet.  Out of bed.  Trying to get off the couch…

Even worse, at a younger  more heartbroken and desperate  age I had tried walking.  In vain.  After my disease progressed and I knew I was losing this wonderful thing ability.

I remember once at age eleven…the start of junior high…walking/lopsidedly-running with no balance.  In my room.  In “secret.”  My mom saw me and knew I was upset.  I lied and told her it was because I wanted makeup.

That weekend I bought my first items of make up.  Artmatic.  Two lip sticks and one blush compact with two shades of pink blush.  Those gold letters will always have this association for me. 

A year later, I tried standing barefoot against my bed.  One of my aunts always told me to just *try.*  I fell, tore my nail, and had to have it removed in the emergency room.

These memories are so fresh and are flooding my mind.  Because of one innocent, albeit rude, question.

Call it PTSD.

Work Tommorrow

After a six day weekend (or four days off work) I am kind of fearing tommorrow.  I feel like this has been somewhat of an emotional and physical struggle for me.  My new cast hurts and I’ve done a lot of mental processing.  Today was a good day; saw a friend, went to the zoo, took Dubs on the train, had furniture bought for us as a gift.  A good day.

I am looking to expand my blog reading.  If you are reading this, and you have a bloggity-blog, kindly share?  I’d love to meet you.

Tommorrow I am going to a hockey game with my favorite Fan.  Score.

I Know What I am Having for Dinner

Ten Little Piggies

I love you, Hubs

Hubs is pretty amazing.  He does so much for me, that I cannot do – and it never breaks him down.  When we bought our house the master bathroom was a nightmare.  Imagine a privacy wall between the toilet and vanity, only worse.  Much worse.  It was a floor to ceiling wall, complete with a door.  Honestly I’m not even sure if your average (or slightly larger than average) nondisabled person could easily maneuver through there.  Hubs redid the entire bathroom: air tub for water therapy, ADA toilet, Euro lav sink for easy rinsing, you name it, Hubs did it.

Halloween (and otherwise) Handy Man

He asks that I do what I can, what I am physically able to do, and he does the rest.  And this keeps him happy.  I can begin to see this helping attitude in Dubs, who tries to be just like his Daddy.  And that makes me smile.

His Daddy's "Jeans"

Hubs isn’t a social worker.  He isn’t a counselor.  Far from that he’s a researcher.  But he keeps me feeling empowered on a daily basis.

Medical Trauma

On this week’s episode of Private Practice (I know, I know) they had a new doctor, Dr. Fife.  This character uses a wheelchair, one of the kinds that can enable a person to remain in a standing position.  This.really.intrigued.me.as.a.disabled.person.  I honestly wasn’t sure how I would feel using this type of chair: Would it remind me of walking?  Would I like it?  Would this terrify me?

I have what I like to call medical trauma.  After all, how can someone go through all this, particularly in childhood, and not have a permanent stamp on the psyche.  I think it is a form of being traumatized.  It’s not always there.  I like to think that I am usually pleasant, sometimes chipper.  But this?  Certain sounds, songs, smells, events… can trigger a flash flood of memories, much like a war veteran.

Funny thing is these memories can be pleasant (take running around in gym class) but there is the undercurrent of my then low self esteem combined with “If I only knew what would happen later?”  When I got my newest set of permawheels I was inundated by memories.  To me what comes next is a 60% rational, 40% irrational response to a painful trigger; one which no amount of rationalizing can really soothe.

I try hard to ground myself in facts, but sometimes it is so hard.  What if I was given a second chance?  What if there was a cure?  Would it be too emotionally painful to revisit certain physical abilities that I gave up so forever long ago?  I think things like the standing wheelchair are great for some people, just maybe not me…

 

Mommy? … I love you…

That is what this tiny (but not THAT tiny) man said to me yesterday when we were at the table eating brunch.  Melted my heart.  Dubs and I both have bad allergies at the moment so Dubs spent the night last night and we shared the humidifier…

Best night’s sleep I’ve had in a while…

P.S. I bought another humidifier today.

Let Loose

That was me last night.  In the bathroom.  Doors shut. Crying.  In true middle school he loves me, he loves me not fashion.

We have Hubs’ Extendeds in town (this has not gone so well in the past, mind you). 

So I sit here with severe allergies and a broken ankle.  Sitting.  So I can serve the coffees, wash the dishes, unload the dishes, watch Dubs, entertain.  Again sitting.  When the doctor’s office tells me to lay down with three pillows under my foot.  Sleep deprived due to my cast.  And, missing work.

  I am miserable.  And I am burning so much vacation time on this stay that I am not taking off the week between Christmas and New Years, the week that my sweet Dubs is home.  And Hubs.

So I’m paranoid.  For being on the computer.  For sleeping in or napping when sleeping is what’s best for me because it rests my foot.  Not to mention my mind.  And I don’t go back to the office till Tuesday.