Updated on the busted leg

So far I've been called "gimpy," "cripple," and "Hop-Along." I'm keeping "Hop-Along," I like that one.

Having a broken leg sucks for sooo many reasons, where shall I ever begin?

My pain pills have been cut off. They said I should take Ibuprofen. I went from Tylenol 3 to Ibuprofen. Does that seem right to you? Not me. My foot doesn't generally ache like it did before, but now all the twisted muscles and tendons that got injured in the fall are chiming in with their own special chorus. And no Tylenol 3. So I can say the pain has improved somewhat. But definitely not enough.

Also, the rest of my body is killing me. I have to use a walker to get the ten feet from the spare bedroom to the bathroom. This means keeping my balance on one leg while pushing the walker ahead, then using my upper body to pull and my left leg to hop to close the distance. My wrists are killing me and my poor left knee isn't very appreciative either. I have been keeping myself too dehydrated probably, just to avoid the grueling trip to the bathroom.

I'm also missing out on all the action that's happening on the first floor. I could be getting my own cheese crackers, but, no, instead i have to beg for three slices of cheese to be carried up at earliest convenience.

Forget the outside world. Even now, with my window closed, I can hear all the fun of the annual neighborhood street festival. Now come on, that's cruel. I should totally be there. And I'm going on a rampage if they have funnel cakes and I'm not getting one.

I'm also incredibly dirty. I'm actually ashamed to admit this, even though I'm the first person to laugh at how gross I am. It's next to impossible to bathe, and even then I don't feel particularly clean. I'm also in too much pain to go looking for clean clothes every day so so far I'm managing a semi-clean ensemble every two or three days. Now remember that I'm spending 24 hours in these grubby clothes, including meal times, and think about how much this adds to my misery.

The good news is that I'm catching up on all my really questionable movie watching, and my boss dropped off four romance novels from the library to keep me entertained. Bless his heart. I put on a bra in case he wanted to come up and say hi, but he was in a hurry. I was sad because I wanted him to see me suffering.

My current dilemma is unpaid sick leave versus temporary disability. And I can't get in touch with the HR dept. Am I staying out too long and using all my sick and vacation days? Or do I need to stay out longer so I can qualify for temporary disability?

The only happy person in all this is my cat, Loki. Since I'm in his bedroom, he gets to spend 24 hours a day with me, and he couldn't be happier. Right now he's laying on his back, curled up to my bad leg, his feet up in the air, looking at me with one eye--sheer feline bliss, let me tell you. When the dog comes into the room to check out what's going on, the cat takes defensive battle station in preparation that he might need to defend Fort Mommy from canine intruder.

And yep, that's all the excitement. The pain, the gore, the dirt, the dilemmas, the animals--that's my world.

Feelin the love from y'all,
Christine