...grumble...

It's been 3 weeks and 2 days since I sliced open my foot. I'm sure you're sick of reading about it. I'm certainly sick of living with it. I've gotten some feeling back, but it's really hard to walk on the numb part of my foot. So I wind up "walking" on the outer edge instead; which causes my big toe to curl up. The pad of my big toe has no real feeling and my brain keeps making up sensations to fill the void. Phantom pain comes in great variety. (sigh)

Today, I realized that I can't keep walking like this. It's messing with my whole body. I need to see a physical therapist. And I don't want to.
Thus the title.
*grumble*

My Husband, My Saviour
.
My dearest, darling, love of my life, husband was awake last night after my last entry. He carried the laundry for me. He listened lovingly as I hemmed and hawed over asking him to get up extra early to drive L to school. I *so* didn't want to ask him. And I was so afraid that the pain would be unbearable halfway to school. He looked at the obvious swelling beneath my healed laceration. And this morning, he drove.
(weep)
He is the most awesome person in the universe. I am so fortunate to be his wife.

Back On The Crutches
.
But hopefully only for a night.
Because I let my mom goad me into doing something stupid, (dancing, 80's style) which required me to bounce on my injured foot. Because apparently, I forgot that I was hurt. So I bounced.

And met with a pain I knew once, long ago. The delightful sensation of interior flesh giving way.
Yeah, baby.
There's nothing like a little stupidity to remind you of ballet class. For those of you who have taken dance; remember when you'd have a particularly tight muscle? And you'd think, "I'll just exercise this out." And you'd tear or pull it? Yeah. That.

So I wrapped me in an ace bandage and had the Hubby-Man get my crutches out of the closet. The plan is that the combination of pressure to prevent swelling and no weight at all on my foot will enable me to drive tomorrow. L needs to get to school, you see. And I have no one to call on. The Hubby-Man can't do it, he's working in the opposite direction tomorrow. (sigh)

So applaud my stupidity and pray that traffic is light, ok? Thanks. :)

They Found Me!
.

And all they had to do was search for:

buy anti-diamond shirt death terrorism
Not here, but lots of webstores let you design your own.

fatten girl "the witch " -gretel -hans
I like how Google asks, "did you mean beaten girl... etc? Nice. Very nice. You sick people with your twisted searches.

how does Krispy Kreme donut recycle grease
Never thought to ask.

and my favorite search this week:

bomb "used it as a hammer"

Traffic
.
This is for all the commuters out there. How do you do it every day? And how do you cope once school starts, and the roads become clogged with Mommymobiles and school busses? How long does it take before traffic returns to the normal rush hour squeeze?

Because it took me an hour and 20 minutes to drive 22 miles today, and I was ready to cry. How friggin' early do I have to get out the door to avoid these additional drivers? Arrrgh!

All Gone
.
Here it is, my LACERATION (LOL, see injury update post)
Anyway, my laceration, minus the stitches; now that the steristrips have come off:

.
The dark matter is just stuff that wants to stay stuck to my skin. I poured hydrogen peroxide all over the (now healed) wound, and it didn't even foam up. I guess I'll have to soak my foot for a while in order to see nothing but new, pink skin.

...And Then My Sister Voiced Her Opinion
.
She of the medical field, knower of all things gruesome, a person who's opinion I value... Except when she tells me to quit hobbling around already. She pointed out that the stitches are gone. And the SteriStrips don't do any good. So I must be healed.

Right. And when mom had her mastectomy she, what? Didn't need the SteriStrips to hold her skin together? It would have just held together all on it's own, I suppose. Argh!

The thing is, my sister is probably right. And my foot is still sensitive. I'd rather use my cane, thank you. I know I'll have to give up my "crutch" eventually. But not today. :P
*end rant*

Baseball In St. Louis

.
My cousin graduated from Exeter last spring, and he's entering the Navy in January; so his parents threw him a party. At Bush Stadium! Woot!
So we went and sat in the nosebleed seats along with 48 of my cousin's friends and family members. There was no way I was going to miss my only chance to see the Cards play this year. So I put on my red tennis shoes, grabbed my cane and headed to the ball park.

(the Hubby-Man drove)

And guess what? I got to ride in the courtesy golf cart, so I didn't have to walk up to the 3rd tier. AND I got a ride back down again! Wasn't that sweet of them?

My foot was swollen and bruised looking after the game, so I have an ice pack on it now. The ice is very, very good.

Freedom!
.
Tonight, just a few minutes ago actually, I took my first unassisted steps since last Wednesday. You may be thinking, "Woo-do-hoo. The 36 year old is learning to walk... and?"

But I'm tellin' ya, the liberation of those first steps... oh my gods.
I'm not going to over do it. Because I'm not stupid, and I know healing takes time and comes in stages. But, oh man! The sheer, unadulterated JOY of WALKING. You just don't know how beautiful that is until you can't walk.

(sniff... it makes me a bit weepy)

If Yesterday
was an awful day, today was terrific. Because today I had my stitches removed. And we got L's shot record corrected. And the Hubby-Man got himself checked up, too.
Dr. Pozzi was impressed with how cleanly my wound is healing. Thank you to everyone who sent healing energy to my foot. I could feel it! Thank you!

I need to be able to drive by next Thursday; that's when L starts school.

I'm sick and tired of my crutches. I'm tired of asking my family to fetch and carry for me. I'm not used to this kind of incapacity. It's damned frustrating. And yet, I'm so very grateful for the tiniest things my family does for me. Holding a door or carrying a cup of coffee has HUGE value when you can't do it yourself.
I find that I have to plan out my movements, so that everything gets done while I'm up; because once I sit down, I don't want to get up again. Not because I'm lazy (which I am,) but because I'm lifting 130 or so lbs with one lone thigh muscle. It takes effort.

On a positive note, I'm building muscle mass like you wouldn't believe!