Long ago, at a party, a friend who had spent her entire adult life in a wheelchair said to me “When you’re handicapped, everything is a procedure.” At the time, I nodded sagely and sipped my drink while I tried to look like I had a fucking clue what she was talking about. After the last 24 hours, I completely – truly – understand.
I’m still working on the procedure, but since I’ve only been up and about for the past day, it’s all fairly new. At my wonderful saintly friends’ house, the only time I had to get up was to go to the toilet – everything was brought to me and I even had help taking a bath. Now, I’m on my own and were there webcams in my house, my antics would be comedy classics.
See me try to carry a cup of coffee (yes, I know it was stupid) while on crutches and spill it all over the cat!
See me trip over a throw rug!
See me try to coax hissing coffee-soaked cat down from the top of the bookshelf!
See me try to retrieve errant crutches after they fall just out of reach!
See me try to wash the dishes and keep my foot propped up at the same time!
Best of all – see me try to bend over and pick something up off of the floor!
I’m sure it’ll get better – I just missed out on the crutch practice days that I would have had without the complications.
Because nothing ever seems to go all that smoothly for me, I picked up a staph infection at the hospital. Not at the incision site – on the top of the foot. I was fine at first, but as soon as the hospital’s anesthesia wore off, the foot began feel like it was on fire. Since I have actually set fire to myself (on more than one occasion), this is a feeling that I know well and quite frankly don’t care for all that much.
The medication wasn’t helping the pain at all, so the doctor was called and he told me to take more of the medication, which made me vomit. Repeatedly. I have now officially poisoned myself with vicodin. Sweet. Remind me not to do it again. I don’t know how people get addicted to that stuff.
I got a better pain drug and was much happier once I managed to get my face out of the trash can.
Although I didn’t have internet, I had cable TV (I’m going to miss that), the best dog ever to keep me company and wonderful people who kept me fed and updated my blog for me. I owe all of them something spectacular now.
When I went to the doctor for a check up, he just scratched his head and said that he couldn’t figure out how I’d gotten the infection – then wrote me a prescription for antibiotics and said that if there was no improvement in five days that he was going to have to re-admit me to the staph factory hospital.
The good news is that the infection’s definitely clearing up – I still can’t put any weight on the foot, but it’s stopped hurting so much when it’s not elevated, which was the one obstacle to my going home.
So now I’m back home and I have the internet again. Of course, the first thing I did was go online and order some padding for the crutches because my armpits look like hamburger.
I’m going back to the doctor in the morning. I don’t suppose he’s going to let me drive yet, so I’m planning on being stuck in the house for another week.
Which isn’t a bad thing – I have a lot of stuff I have to get done if and when I can manage to balance.