If I survive the weekend, it will be a miracle. Friday started off with great promise. I had an appointment to get my stitches out, woo hoo! That meant a real shower in my future. One that doesn’t have my foot and lower leg triple bagged to stay dry. A shower that I could luxuriate in letting hot water wash over me with a wonderfully scented shower gel that I could lather up all over. Ah, heaven.
But no, that is not in my future, not for another week. My doctor unwrapped my foot, poked at my toes and wiggled them around to show me that everything is healing nicely even though my foot was very swollen. After the sharp intakes of air and scrunching my face into grotesque masks of pain, the doctor left to get some contraption he said would help bring down the swelling. Mitch told me how proud he was of me. I asked him what he meant and he said he was surprised I didn’t start swearing. I said that it was close, but I controlled myself. I didn’t want the doctor to run fleeing the room in fear for his life.
He came back in with a compression squeezer that I have no intention of putting on because it was terribly painful when he slipped it on and dragged it past my stitches. The doctor then pulled at two of my stitches and explained that though the incision was not gaping, it was not healed enough to remove the rest of the stitches. Did I mention how much it hurt to have the two stitches removed? Anyway after all of the manipulation, foot squeezing and stitch pulling, I was ready to go home and lay down for a while. Plus I was so bummed out that I didn’t get my stitches out.
After resting for a while, I got up to get something unimportant, lost my balance and fell backwards hitting the back of my skull on my nightstand. God that hurt so bad. Crying and grabbing the back of my head to feel for blood, luckily I didn’t split my skull open but there was a huge lump already. I dragged myself over to where I could reach my cellphone and called Mitch who was walking the dogs, because I wasn’t sure how bad it was and I was scared. It was this awful stabbing pain that felt like a thousand needles in the back of my head. All I could think of was that I had fractured my skull. Mitch rushed back, helped me off the floor and put me back in bed. He examined my head and got ice packs to help bring down the large knot at the base of my skull. I think I scared him as much as I scared me. No blurred vision, no nausea and my pupils worked so we decided not to go to the emergency room. Just rest and watch me. Sorry not this time Aflac.
Saturday I woke up, surprise I didn’t die in my sleep. I’m really glad for that. We went to the grocery store, my first outing since other than work and the doctor’s office I’ve been pretty house bound. The day was pleasant, clear skies and mild, Mitch was going to mow and weed eat the yard. This is my job because when Mitch mows or weed eats, he mows and weed eats everything growing. It doesn’t matter what it is. It’s in the way, so it has to go. In order for that to not happen, Mitch set me up in a chair on the porch and with blue flags he walked around the yard pointing at various plants waiting for a mow or no mow sign from me. If I gave the no mow sign he planted a blue flag next to it. The grass was terribly tall, so mowing would take a while.
The dogs and I decided to go back in the house while Mitch slaved away. I opened the kitchen door let the dogs in and started in myself. I hopped in got the left crutch planted when the door closed on the right crutch throwing me off balance. I started to fall forward and accidentally put weight on my left foot. As soon as I realized what I was doing I lifted my foot which caused me to fall forward to my knees. There is no way I could stand up from that position so I had to drag myself to the bathroom and pulled myself up on the toilet. I am so graceful.
Please just let survive this weekend.
4 thoughts on “The Long Weekend”
Why do I get the feeling that doctor used to work in Idi Amin’s torture chambers – I would have kicked him with my good leg.
When you said many moons ago that you were not particularly graceful – girl, you were not kidding, were you.
Well, wish you all the best as best can be,
Thank you, I am probably the most ungraceful person I know. If I survive the next 3 months it will be a miracle.
I hope you are back on your feet again soon.
Me too. Charlie and Orso miss our walks together. I miss them too.