Sean, Evie and Anonymous are tucked away in bed and I’m on the couch. Those three are sick and I’m hurt. My leg hurts on the left side, where the plate used to be. I had to take a different painkiller today and that kills me. I’ve been doing very well with my leg. I don’t wear stupid shoes and losing weight has helped immensely. On Tuesday I indulged Evie by taking her on this inflatable bouncy slide over and over for about an hour and a half. My leg has been good, sometimes I do nearly forget that I nearly lost it. Today I had a bath, a luxury and a rarity (Mom’s will know this) I use a bath to help with pain. I take my meloxicam and I finally see my medication as a tool instead of a hindrance. Nonetheless sitting here with the others all in bed and me out here I’m reminded of the chopped down bunk-bed and worrying about taking painkillers.
I received a letter from our health insurance yesterday. At first it looked like a survey on doctor/patient satisfaction but it was actually a questionnaire on whether or not one of my treatments was due to negligence or an accident. The letter wanted to know about the treatment which occurred on the tenth of June 2008. Anonymous and I were scratching our heads on that one. Finally we were able to figure out that was my third leg surgery when the frame was taken off. Once we figured that one out the questionnaire was quickly filled out.
This week has tickled my mind for a reason that I couldn’t place. It wasn’t until last night that I was looking at my watch and saw the the date. Upon seeing the 26th I thought, “Wait a minute the 27th that’s important for something.” I then got it. I turned and asked my husband, “You know what tomorrow is?” He looked as dumbfounded as I had felt moments before. I smiled and said, “The 27th is when I broke my leg.” It’s nice to know the memory fades.
My right leg is getting better at least I think it is. I’m faithfully stretching it as ordered and taking my new fancy once a day pill. The urge to dig fingers or other objects into my hip has abated greatly…hope it lasts.
The area where my right leg meets my body has been giving me grief for awhile now. It started in physical therapy about a year ago. The pain seemed to manifest itself the most during the time of the month when my body would remind me that I’m a woman. The therapist declared it was overcompensation of my right leg for my left and had me do some stretches. Over the past few months it has gotten worse, I went to the doctor last friday. He tried moving my right leg across my body and the leg wouldn’t move. After a full exam we have a tentative diagnosis of a torn ligament that holds up my right hip. WTF??? During the exam the doc kept asking if I had had any prior hip injuries such as a fall. The only fall I know of resulting in injury was to my left leg. The doc orders a pelvic X-ray to rule out a fracture and osteoarthritus, I’ll get the results sometime this week. Someone upstairs must be taking the piss.
Yes, this is true. You can’t make this shit up.
Last night Sean had a bad night, he would not sleep. We did the usual calming routine of holding and then putting back to bed. Around 2200 he geared up again for another marathon crying session. Anonymous got up and took Sean downstairs. I was tired but got up so I could go downstairs. So I’ve got both hands on the banister rail and I’m going down the stairs sideways (I can’t go downstairs facing forward). I miss a step and once again become a projectile. I manage to land but since I’m sideways I split my arse along the landing step, the edge of the stair boring into my coccyx. Luckily my leg is not hurt, this comes on the heels of yesterday when my surgeon pronounced me 100% healed. So now I have a bruised arse and pride…at least the leg feels better. However, my arse hurts like hell!! The reaper must be laughing his arse off at me!
30 points for who gets the title
Everyday if the weather is good I take Sean out for a walk. The walk is more for me, I enjoy the chance to get out and the walking is counted as therapy for my healing leg. I take the same route most days which allows me take in my surroundings. Generally I notice if the bushes in the apartment complexes are trimmed. Today I saw a truly-dead opossum… like dead-dead. What I really wonder about is the dick drawings scrawled on the pavement. What the hell is that about? Whatever happened to good old hopscotch squares?