Six Weeks and One Day

That's how much time has passed since the accident on May 17th that resulted in a trimalleolar fracture of my right ankle. The first time I saw the doctor, he told me to expect surgery followed by 4 weeks in a cast and then 4 to 6 weeks in a walking boot. That leads me to believe that I am half way through this process. So - at the half-way point, it's important to ask the question - is my glass half empty, or half full?

Today, I'm leaning towards the half empty attitude. Only half way through the process! No guarantees that it won't take even longer to return to normal... I can't imagine another 6 weeks of relying on others for everything! WAAA WAAA WAAA

The good news is that my cast should come off in exactly 2 weeks. I do look forward to that milestone and perhaps once I've made it that far, my attitude will improve. Either my swelling has gone way down or I'm losing inches of muscle mass from my right calf muscle - but my cast is getting sloppier and sloppier each day. I am convinced that I could wiggle my foot out of the cast if I set my mind to it. I've seen boys haircuts with shorter hair than the hair growing on my leg right now. And the bottom of my foot is dry and crusty. Earlier this week I slathered what I could reach in Vaseline. Now I'm "peeling" off some bizarre mixture of Vaseline and dried skin. My son called it Toe Paste. When I stretch my legs out in my sleep, my right leg quivers.

I've had a resurgence of discomfort in my foot - over the ankle bones and across the top of the foot. I'm determined to stay away from my Vicodin so I continue to keep my foot elevated as much as possible, which leaves me feeling completely useless as a contributor to my family. My husband's shoulder has been bothering him and I know he doesn't feel well, yet I know if I were to try and get up to help tidy up the house or prepare a meal I would pay the price physically and he would be upset with me for pushing myself. So I lie here with my trusty laptop, tapping out my frustrations in this blog.

To add to things, my best friend of 33 years moved to Detroit this morning. We hugged and cried like babies last night. I reminded her that we never say "good-bye," we only say "see you soon." We have lived in separate parts of the country off and on for our entire adult lives, but it doesn't make it any easier.

Six weeks and one day with my mood hovering dangerously close to self pity and depression. But the sun came out today, my friend Dee Dee is going to take me shopping in my wheelchair tomorrow, and if I can get a good nights' sleep tonight - tomorrow should most certainly look brighter than today.