It’s been a while.
I have a half dozen posts that are mostly finished. The problem with mostly finished posts are that they start feeling like a chore to finish. Writing is supposed to my creative outlet, NOT my chore. So every once in a while, when I start feeling like this, I drop off line for a while.
I didn’t go far.
So…let’s catch up!
It has now been seven weeks since the fateful night that altered my world completely. It has been ten weeks since my relationship of almost two years ended. I’ve had surgery and I’ve moved (I swear there is a post coming on the move soon!). To say there’s been a lot on my plate would be an understatement. I battle between depression and sobriety. In fact, over the weekend Karina the Russian told me I need an attitude adjustment. To be honest, it wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but it was what I needed to hear because right now even I don’t want to be around me sometimes.
In an effort to adjust my sour attitude, here are three updates of things in my life that I am grateful for:
1. I was cleared to start walking again! I’m still in my soft cast, but I don’t have to use my knee scooter or crutches anymore. The doctor told me to expect it to be painful and that my foot would swell – he was right on both accounts. I’ve been told I look like a zombie when I walk and that turtles move faster than me, but I AM WALKING!!!
2. The support I’ve received. I am stubborn and independent. I am constantly out to prove that I don’t need anyone (especially after a break-up) and that I can handle everything by myself. Well, guess what? When you can’t walk you have to swallow your pride and accept help because people are more than willing to give it to you. For example, my dad helped me get new tires for my car, my mom helped me with my laundry and took me grocery shopping, then they gave me a huge sack full of vegetables from their garden and some home made salsa. All in one day. Seriously. How lucky am I? But it’s not just my family. My friends as well as my work have been nothing but supportive.
3. Getting up into the mountains! As many of you know, I’m an avid hiker. I gain so much joy and clarity in my life from spending time in nature. Being without it has been rough on me. But Sunday I met my hiking group for breakfast up at Silver Fork Lodge at Snowbird Mountain Resort, then rode the tram up the mountain with them.
Even though I wasn’t able to hike down with them, just being able to hobble my way around at the top and smell the high-altitude clean mountain air gave me a fresh outlook on life and put the missing smile back on my face.
Which is awesome. I like being happy sooooo much more than feeling sorry for myself.
Well, I went to the doctor and guess what? I no longer have fishing twine holding my ankle together.
The bad news is that my leg hairs are now about two inches long. It’s like I am now part wolverine or something. Who knew having an ace bandage on your leg for a month would be the equivalent of leg Rogaine?
The doctor says I am healing nicely. I asked him if “nicely” meant that I will be able to use my left leg soon. He did the backwards math from when the surgery was and informed me I still had another two or three weeks to go. I asked Mr. Killjoy if I was at least allowed to get my ankle wet now that the stitches were out. He studied at my ankle then looked back at me and asked how long my baths usually are. Apparently 15 – 20 minutes is the wrong answer because he informed me I had to wait another week. Which? Come on now, who takes a bath in less than 15 minutes? Certainly not people with broken appendages!
So I guess I need to wait another week. At my next appointment they are going to do an ultrasound to see how the healing of my ligaments is progressing. Please keep your fingers crossed because, who knows. By then I could have another inch of leg hair and be that much closer to turning into a shewolf.
I suppose I just need to remind myself to be patient. I mean I dowant it to heal right after all. Plus, god invented razors for a reason, right?
So I got a new ride.
Wanna see it?
I started back to work this week and to be honest, crutches are exhausting. So I found a harmless old man who rented me his knee scooter.
I don’t have a picture of me on it yet, but this is pretty much what I look like… only without the beard.
I figure now that I’m a little more mobile, that means I can do just about anything, right?
I’m sure you can feel the direction this is headed already.
I decided to go to the grocery store to pick up a few items. On my own. Because I can totally handle shit all by myself.
MAKE WAY! Independent bitch coming through.
I pull up to the grocery store, parked in a handicap parking stall (because I totally scored a temporary handicap parking pass!), and decided crutching my way in to the store would be easier than using the knee scooter – that way I could use the motorized shopping cart.
Did I mention I am totally doing this at the busiest time of day too?
I’ve found the trick to using a motorized shopping cart is to act like you don’t feel like a complete asshole and are not embarrassed what-so-ever. I may have been kicked out of high school drama club, but this is one role I was totally born to play.
Yep. I got my milk, q-tips, three gallon jug of water, and rotisserie chicken with my head held high! And I only ran into two other shopping carts and one small child. Which? Totally not my fault! They don’t exactly make those carts to stop on a dime, you know? Brat should have watched where I was going.
So I managed to successfully get four bags of groceries and a three gallon jug of water into my car, return the motorized cart, grab my crutches and hobble my ass back to the car. I’m a little sweaty, but overall feeling good about this little shopping accomplishment. Until it dawns on me, I have no way to get the groceries from the car into my house.
So I cried. Then I cussed. Then I cussed while crying. Then I called Karina the Russian and my sister Staci to see if either of them were available, which of course they weren’t. Something about having lives and children to take care of.
I decided I needed to make a decision. I could either continue to call everyone in my phone book for help, or I could grow a pair and figure out how to take care of it on my own.
Guess which one I chose.
I got home and through a combination of one legged wheeling and carrying grocery bags with my pinkie fingers so the others fingers could grasp the crutches, I was able to get them all inside.
Even though it took forever and I dropped things, I felt a little victorious. That is, until it dawned on me that I still needed to take the garbage cans to the curb.
By the time I got all of the food put away, cans to the curb, and made myself dinner, I was spent. Finished. Stick a fork in me cause I was done.
Looking back I’m not sure if I consider the whole experience a victory or not. Sure, I proved to myself that I am still an independent person and even though it’s harder and takes forever and my foot was totally throbbing by the time I finished, I was still able to take care of myself.
But at what cost? I didn’t have to have get groceries right then. I could have waited until a day when someone was available to help. I could have saved myself a whole lot of headache, frustration and bruised bananas if I wasn’t so damn stubborn.
Is it totally overrated?