Because I'm unfortunately still lopsided.
It's time for another Leg Catastrophe update. After being in a half-cast thingy since the surgery (three weeks ago), it was time for an upgrade. Thursday I went in to get my stitches out & get my walking boot on. I was SO EXCITED!!!! The stitches were seriously starting to drive me nuts. Every time I moved my cast, they would poke at me and pull at my skin. Plus, they were starting to itch. And I've been so ready to get my walking boot on. Not only because I'm so tired of sleeping with a cast on, but because I really want to lighten Josh's work load. I want to start being able to take my dog out, and cook & clean. Basically, I'm tired of being a succubus on the chest of society.
Well, my wish for relief was taken away. For one thing, everyone who said that it would be a piece of cake getting my stitches out was a big, fat liar. I'd like to think I have a pretty good threshold for pain. I may squeal a bit when I stub my toe, or give myself a paper cut. But in reality, I like to be the tough girl. Bikini waxes, piercing, tattoos, BRING IT!! But these stupid stitches.....it was like getting a wax job over a fresh tattoo. Unfortunately, my skin had grown over in some places. I could feel the thread being pulled from once side of the incision to the other. The nurse kept telling me I could take a break if I needed to, but I'm more of a "hurry up and get this crap over with" kind of girl. I consoled myself by thinking of ways I could torture the man with the tweezers.
Finally the stitches were out. Next came the fun part. (can you feel my eyes rolling as I say that?) I got the walking boot put on!! A huge, 50lb metal and plastic monstrosity with enough velcro straps to make you feel like you're in some kind of mental institute where you need to be strapped down to your bed at all times. In order to put my foot in the boot, it had to be bent to a 90˚ angle.
I like to consider myself a polite person. I always say please and thank you. I open doors for people. I send out thank you cards. I have a mouth like a sailor, but I try my hardest to never curse in public.
But when this guy grabbed my foot & bent it up, I thought I was about to invent some colorful new breed of cursing. I couldn't even contain what came out of my mouth. All I know is that the nurse laughed & said he thought I was a female drill sergeant for a second. The bending of my ankle was...unpleasant.
Finally got my foot into the boot, when the bad news was broken to me. Even though this is a walking boot, I am not allowed to put all my weight on my foot. I still have to use my crutches at all times. I still have to take a shower sitting down (and it has to be a quick shower - I have sterile strips covering my incision, and they can't get too wet). I can't take the dog out, I can't stand up to cook or clean. I do need to move around during the day to try and get more and more weight on my ankle. But basically, I am still stuck laying around for another 3 weeks, until the boot comes off and I can start PT.
Have you seen The Shining? Because I'm about to get all Jack Nicholson up in this place.
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