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What exactly was I thinking? I was being totally irrational. I fooled myself into thinking I would be get back to my normal life the second the cast came off. Well, I thought I’d sort of get back to my normal life. Visions of me hobbling around the house until I got my “strength” back filled my mind. I believed I’d be walking in the CAM walker for a week with crutches then I’d graduate to just the CAM walker, then my own leg bare of all medical assistance. It was all fantasy . . . at least for now.
Dr. Benenati did remove the cast, but said the foot had to be non-weight bearing for another two weeks. I am cast free, but filled with angst. This scrawny little leg, ankle and foot are no longer protected by a strong purple cast. I’m totally exposed. I can wear my CAM walker, the rockstar boot – that’s what Gus called it – but it offers no protection on the back of my leg. Griffin finds the scar too tempting when uncovered, he wants to poke it.
By the way, I thinking I’m raising a serial killer. On Sunday morning I was at the top of the stairs on my crutches working up the courage to make the first hop down, when Griffin came up behind me and pushed me. Thank God I had a good balance going. You can use you imagination to figure out my reaction.
Where was I? I’m freaked out. It’s as if a new body part as replaced the damaged one, but the new one . . . it’s not that great. I know it will be. The throbbing pain is gone from before the surgery, so already there is improvement. Like all the people on Extreme Makeover I will be happy once the healing is over. It’s the near future I must contend with.
Here are the marital tribulations that have popped up during my “downtime.” When on crutches it is impossible to get yourself a drink of water and take it anywhere. Granted I could stand at the sink and a have glass and move on, but we have the water cooler in the laundry room. Call me crazy, but we got the water cooler to avoid the arsenic laden community well-water we currently have, so I want that water not the tap water. The wheel chair that has helped me so much can not make it into the laundry room, so I’m dependent on others. I think I’ve asked Joe for approximately four things a day: things like my book upstairs, a couple glasses of something to drink, pain medication. Almost everything else I do I can do on my own. But damn it all to hell it takes him at least a half an hour if not an hour to get the water to me. I know he’s busy. I should be happy I even have someone to help me. But there’s a bigger issue. I’m learning how much he really doesn’t know about me. I have a few rules, Shelley would say many. Here are the rules as they apply to beverages.
1: Water should always be cool. If not previously cooled, there has to be ice, at least five cubes must be in the glass.
2: Milk is never to be served in a plastic cup, at least not served to me.
3: When giving someone water for a pill, the server should always make sure the water is cool, not warm. Bluck! People that love each other check the coolest of the water.
4: Lemonade with one ice cube is ridiculous.
This is why I prefer to do things myself. I know all the rules. If I say, “Could have the milk in a glass, glass?” Suddenly I’m bitching and complaining. Not that anyone has said that, but the eyes reveal the soul. I was handed a hot bowl right out of the dishwasher for cereal this weekend. WHAT IS UP WITH THAT? This was not given to me by my husband, but someone I did complain to and they basically said, “To bad.” It was horrible. The second the milk hit the bowl it was lukewarm. AAARRHGGHGH! I couldn’t finish the bowl and a great deal of Cap’n Crunch went down the drain, which should be considered a sin.
My bed has not been made to my strict specifications. No one will clean the poor rats cage, that is happening tonight if it kills me. It was deemed showers in the morning for the boys are too much of a hassle and Gus went to school looking like Charlie Bucket. The blinds in the Family room rarely get open unless I mention it and then I’m a fish monger’s wife. There’s shit all over the kitchen counter, toys in the “stupid” room, family room and office. Not all the decorations came down from Griffin’s birthday party.
Otherwise I’m doing great. Thanks for asking.{
Dr. Benenati did remove the cast, but said the foot had to be non-weight bearing for another two weeks. I am cast free, but filled with angst. This scrawny little leg, ankle and foot are no longer protected by a strong purple cast. I’m totally exposed. I can wear my CAM walker, the rockstar boot – that’s what Gus called it – but it offers no protection on the back of my leg. Griffin finds the scar too tempting when uncovered, he wants to poke it.
By the way, I thinking I’m raising a serial killer. On Sunday morning I was at the top of the stairs on my crutches working up the courage to make the first hop down, when Griffin came up behind me and pushed me. Thank God I had a good balance going. You can use you imagination to figure out my reaction.
Where was I? I’m freaked out. It’s as if a new body part as replaced the damaged one, but the new one . . . it’s not that great. I know it will be. The throbbing pain is gone from before the surgery, so already there is improvement. Like all the people on Extreme Makeover I will be happy once the healing is over. It’s the near future I must contend with.
Here are the marital tribulations that have popped up during my “downtime.” When on crutches it is impossible to get yourself a drink of water and take it anywhere. Granted I could stand at the sink and a have glass and move on, but we have the water cooler in the laundry room. Call me crazy, but we got the water cooler to avoid the arsenic laden community well-water we currently have, so I want that water not the tap water. The wheel chair that has helped me so much can not make it into the laundry room, so I’m dependent on others. I think I’ve asked Joe for approximately four things a day: things like my book upstairs, a couple glasses of something to drink, pain medication. Almost everything else I do I can do on my own. But damn it all to hell it takes him at least a half an hour if not an hour to get the water to me. I know he’s busy. I should be happy I even have someone to help me. But there’s a bigger issue. I’m learning how much he really doesn’t know about me. I have a few rules, Shelley would say many. Here are the rules as they apply to beverages.
1: Water should always be cool. If not previously cooled, there has to be ice, at least five cubes must be in the glass.
2: Milk is never to be served in a plastic cup, at least not served to me.
3: When giving someone water for a pill, the server should always make sure the water is cool, not warm. Bluck! People that love each other check the coolest of the water.
4: Lemonade with one ice cube is ridiculous.
This is why I prefer to do things myself. I know all the rules. If I say, “Could have the milk in a glass, glass?” Suddenly I’m bitching and complaining. Not that anyone has said that, but the eyes reveal the soul. I was handed a hot bowl right out of the dishwasher for cereal this weekend. WHAT IS UP WITH THAT? This was not given to me by my husband, but someone I did complain to and they basically said, “To bad.” It was horrible. The second the milk hit the bowl it was lukewarm. AAARRHGGHGH! I couldn’t finish the bowl and a great deal of Cap’n Crunch went down the drain, which should be considered a sin.
My bed has not been made to my strict specifications. No one will clean the poor rats cage, that is happening tonight if it kills me. It was deemed showers in the morning for the boys are too much of a hassle and Gus went to school looking like Charlie Bucket. The blinds in the Family room rarely get open unless I mention it and then I’m a fish monger’s wife. There’s shit all over the kitchen counter, toys in the “stupid” room, family room and office. Not all the decorations came down from Griffin’s birthday party.
Otherwise I’m doing great. Thanks for asking.{
9 comments:
I don't know that this will make you feel any better, but I have found another "milk in a glass-glass" weirdo just like me. I knew there was a reason we were friends. This HAS to be it. Why is it that milk tastes better in a glass...glass? I swear it is colder. Somehow more satisfying. The worst thing in the world is a glass of skim milk in one of those slimy translucent green tupperware glasses that we used to have when kids back in the seventies. It used to make shivers of disgust go up my spine.
If you have any other obsessive compulsive disorders that you wish to quantify, just e-mail me. I have a list of my own so long I'm beginning to think I should have been medicated a long time ago. (Don't even ask me about my little symmetry problem)
I have to be REALLY thirsty to drink anything out of a styrofoam cup and I HAVE to use a small fork and spoon, NEVER the big ones. Just a couple of my OCD's !
I think we all have a list like that.
Maybe the milk in a glass thing has to do with the way it sticks to the sides of the plastic ones more making it look more...milky? And the temperature of milk is very important to me too. I once knew someone who had to have an ice cube in her milk, but that's not right either, it dilutes it.
I also only drink milk from a glass glass - this also applies to OJ. Water I can have in plastic, but with lots of ice. And speaking of ice...with what water do you make your ice cubes? The tap water or the laundry room water? And why oh why can't some of these tasks be filled by Gus or Will? Liam fills up my water for me ALL the time.
We have a filter on the ice maker. Gus, Will, and Griffin have been running for water, the phone, the mail, the magazine, the book, the remote, the camera, etc. . . It's just the adult I'm having trouble with.
Thank GOD I hate milk and NEVER drink it...one less OCD :)
Yeah, Amy's only OCD has to do with wine.....that's healthy! ;-)
HEYYYYY!! But...that does explain why I' checking Kendrea's blog @ 1:34 AM !!
That's okay. My other OCD has to do with Southern Comfort and lemonade, and I'm pretty sure that's NOT healthy!
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