Being single is tough. Being single in your 30's is really tough. Not only do we have to deal with the endless cacophony of "so when are you getting married" from everyone from your mother to 4 year old children...but we also have to run the particularly daunting gamut of single men of a certain age. And as we all know already...men are idiots. Really big idiots. I'm not saying I'm perfect. I know I'm not...but between my friends and I...we have come across many situations that just leave us without words. Or laughing hysterically...because men are idiots.
Below are just a few helpful hints for those idiot guys out there.
1) Don't be an idiot.
When failure to follow this rule occurs...please see remainder of the list.
2) Yes...I am amazing. Yes...I am wonderful. Yes...I do like to hear all of these things. But this does not mean that I immediately want to get into a serious relationship with you the day we meet. Nor does this give you the authority to get jealous, snippy, or make me feel guilty because I have a life outside of you. Remember...we JUST met.
3) I know how to do things for myself. Chances are, single women of a certain age have lived alone. And as a result are used to being independent and managing a house all on their own. I can mow my own lawn. I can fix things around the house. It is sweet if you offer. I may even take you up on it. But don't be put off if I tell you "no thanks, I got it."
4) I am not your mother. Act accordingly.
5) If I have children, and you have not met them yet...and we happen to run into one another in public...kids in tow...do not approach me. If you haven't met them yet...there's a good reason for it. I'm not ready for it, and they certainly are not ready for it. So I will act as if you don't exist.
6) Don't lie. Ever. I'm not stupid, and I will find out.
7) Harem's are a thing of the past. So if we end up in a serious relationship, I expect there to only be 2 people in that relationship. No more. No less.
8) You must be able to pass a mental health examination. Woman are the only one's allowed to be crazy.
9) No drugs. Duh.
10) Being a gentleman is not a thing of the past. Open the door, walk next to the street, all that good stuff that makes women swoon. Oh yeah...and don't stop doing it. Ever.
11) No means no. Yes means yes.
12) Be kind.
13) Share.
14) I am not your ex.
15) This is not my first time around the block with relationships. I am no longer 15. I'm older. I'm wiser. I'm better.
16) If you say you're going to do something. Do it.
17) I don't need you. I want you. When you figure out that's a compliment, please come see me.
Monday, May 5, 2014
Monday, March 17, 2014
The Ridiculously Long Road to Recovery
Let me start by saying that had I written this post yesterday, it would have been a MUCH different post. You'll find out why in a bit.
6 weeks. It has been 6 weeks since I stepped off a step of 6 inches, slipped on a patch of ice, and changed my life. In some ways it has been the absolute longest 6 weeks of my life. In others...it seems like wow...didn't that just happen yesterday? One thing is for certain, I haven't had a full night of sleep in 6 weeks. Yikes.
I saw the awesome orthopedic surgeon a little over 3 weeks ago, and they removed the splint and staples. I kid you not, I was more nervous for this Dr. appointment than I was before surgery. I had talked to my aunt, who had broken both wrists a few years ago, and she told me that removing the staples was really painful. So I took a percocet, and went to the Dr.
I had nothing to be worried about.
Nothing.
This might have been the best Dr. appointment of my life.
I actually had...can you believe it...fun. I laughed. I hobbled out in a much better mood than I went in.
The nurse took out my staples, and assured me that she hadn't made anyone else cry that day. So I felt pretty good about her abilities. The main thing that got to me was that my foot, my leg, that I have been looking at my entire life, and know fairly well, now looked like an alien being attached to my my knee. Weird...I tell you. It looked weird!! See:
It looks really weird. And swollen. And discolored.
So anyway...the Dr. came in and the first thing he noticed were my crutches. The BP had decorated them with Superman duct tape the night before...because Superman is awesome. And apparently my Dr's 2 year old son totally agrees with me.
Nevermind C's 3 year old son who took one look at them and said "Batman's better."
But then it was on to the real stuff...like making sure I could blow this Popsicle stand and head to Florida. That was fine.
And on yeah...he showed me my X-Ray's. And my new Wolverine-esque ankle. Ok...normally I am VERY squeamish. VERY. But for some reason...these X-Ray's haven't bothered me. But if you're more squeamish than me...you might want to skip the pictures.
So what you're looking at here are 9 screws, and one really long metal plate that is over 6 inches long. The good thing is that a mere two weeks after surgery, and you can barely see where the breaks were in the bones. The bad news is that I still had a severely sprained ankle. But I could start putting some pressure on it, and more and more as time goes by. The better news was that the boot can come off to shower!!! And I can take it out to stretch and ice a few times a day.
So while the Dr. was showing me the current X-Ray...I asked if I could take a picture of it. And he said that would be fine. Then asked if I had the before X-Rays...which I didn't. So they pulled those up on the computer.
See...I did a REALLY good job of breaking my ankle.
And then they pulled one up that they took DURING surgery. Yeah...that's the Dr. working on one of the screws right there.
Ok...the gross part of the show is over :)
He also told me that I had a really old injury where I had sprained my ankle and chipped a piece of bone off my ankle. I had no clue that I did that. But knowing my klutzy self...it doesn't surprise me.
Ok...so that was then...
...this is now. I get to wear this fabulous piece of footware for at least a couple of more weeks. But we're being optimistic, and I get to take a left shoe to my next Dr. appointment.
I flew to Florida a few days after my Dr. appointment, and I've now been here 3 weeks. Let me say this...I have flown a lot in my life. A LOT! But never damaged before. And that's totally the way to go. They got a wheel chair for me, and I got to skip to the head of the security line. I got on the plane first. This is ideal.
Not that that would be a reason to ever break another bone ever again...because it isn't.
Recovering in Florida has been nice...for the most part. My parents are here to take care of my every need. Though sometimes it kinda feels like I'm a little kid again. Or like a teenager...asking to borrow the car to go get a milk shake. But it's been relaxing...which is what I need. Because I have been able to do everything I could from here. And here it's 80 degrees most days.
And I got a pedicure (look closely in the picture above) and...yes...I chose blue polish because I wanted my toes to be blue on purpose. Not because they were bruised or without circulation this time. The pedicure was amazing...because the massage was quite possibly the most amazing thing I have ever felt in my entire life. Yowza!!
But on a serious note. It has been 6 weeks. And I did a lot of damage to my ankle. I am (relatively) young. And I am following (ok...at least TRYING) Dr's orders. I have to remind myself of this on a daily basis. And the thing that often slips my mind is I have a lot of foreign objects in my body now. And this isn't like the Junior Mint episode of Seinfeld...where all is hunky dory afterward. No no...my body doesn't like that I'm turning into Wolverine. It's fighting that daily. Some days are better than others. But every day...I get a gentle...or not so gentle reminder of where every single screw and piece of metal is.
If the weather is bad...or going to be bad...it's a much worse day.
I have already had one old lady bone in my right foot for years. It tells me when it's going to rain or snow...or when the wind is going to blow too hard.
That pales in comparison to my left ankle.
The last few days have been really bad. Awful actually. 2 nights ago, I barely slept 4 hours, and I was awake every hour because my ankle woke me up, and I just simply couldn't get comfortable. And it hurt a lot yesterday. I pretty much didn't want to do anything but curl up in the fetal position. The dad, wisely, recommended that I break into my stash of pain killers so I could at least get a decent night of sleep. I haven't taken pain killers since before I came to Florida, and I was feeling really good about that. I've taken Advil a couple of times to knock the edge off...but nothing more than that. So I was hesitant...but I also figured it was a good idea.
And holy cow, I forgot what good pain killers were like. I forgot that they also have a property that relaxes you a little...makes you a little goofy. And oh yeah...doesn't really make all of the pain go away...it just makes you forget about it a little more. So that really means that I slept about as well last night as I have in the past 6 weeks.
So...6 weeks. I want to be doing more than I am. I can take a few steps...cautiously. I can get in and out of the shower, and stand there just fine. I may have walked across the room...without a boot...without my ankle wrapped in any way...and I may have gotten yelled at for doing so by the dad. 6 weeks is not a long time. And I can certainly tell that I have made leaps and bounds in recovering. But I still have a long way to go. Because some may say that taking a few steps right now is great. But I sometimes look at that and say..."but I'm a marathon runner!! I have ran 40 miles in 1 weekend before...I should be able to do so much more! I ran 20 miles 8 weeks after I had surgery last time!!" So I'm stubborn, and impatient...
I was told by a very good friend, not long after I did this, that God has been trying to teach me a lesson my entire life. And I just wasn't getting it. So sometimes God takes some extreme steps to get your attention.
Dear God, I get it. You're making me take a step back, and really listen. Next time, I'll try to remember this and not get so pigheaded that you need to break a bone again.
Kthx.
So while I am occasionally going out of my mind because I can't do much of anything...I am also trying to enjoy it. Because I know that as soon as I can be up and going again, I will be. And I have hopes that I will come out of this whole experience a better, stronger person. Because there really is no better experience to help see things clearly, and really put things in perspective. And I am trying to listen.
6 weeks. It has been 6 weeks since I stepped off a step of 6 inches, slipped on a patch of ice, and changed my life. In some ways it has been the absolute longest 6 weeks of my life. In others...it seems like wow...didn't that just happen yesterday? One thing is for certain, I haven't had a full night of sleep in 6 weeks. Yikes.
I saw the awesome orthopedic surgeon a little over 3 weeks ago, and they removed the splint and staples. I kid you not, I was more nervous for this Dr. appointment than I was before surgery. I had talked to my aunt, who had broken both wrists a few years ago, and she told me that removing the staples was really painful. So I took a percocet, and went to the Dr.
I had nothing to be worried about.
Nothing.
This might have been the best Dr. appointment of my life.
I actually had...can you believe it...fun. I laughed. I hobbled out in a much better mood than I went in.
The nurse took out my staples, and assured me that she hadn't made anyone else cry that day. So I felt pretty good about her abilities. The main thing that got to me was that my foot, my leg, that I have been looking at my entire life, and know fairly well, now looked like an alien being attached to my my knee. Weird...I tell you. It looked weird!! See:
So anyway...the Dr. came in and the first thing he noticed were my crutches. The BP had decorated them with Superman duct tape the night before...because Superman is awesome. And apparently my Dr's 2 year old son totally agrees with me.
Nevermind C's 3 year old son who took one look at them and said "Batman's better."
But then it was on to the real stuff...like making sure I could blow this Popsicle stand and head to Florida. That was fine.
And on yeah...he showed me my X-Ray's. And my new Wolverine-esque ankle. Ok...normally I am VERY squeamish. VERY. But for some reason...these X-Ray's haven't bothered me. But if you're more squeamish than me...you might want to skip the pictures.
So while the Dr. was showing me the current X-Ray...I asked if I could take a picture of it. And he said that would be fine. Then asked if I had the before X-Rays...which I didn't. So they pulled those up on the computer.
Ok...the gross part of the show is over :)
He also told me that I had a really old injury where I had sprained my ankle and chipped a piece of bone off my ankle. I had no clue that I did that. But knowing my klutzy self...it doesn't surprise me.
Ok...so that was then...
I flew to Florida a few days after my Dr. appointment, and I've now been here 3 weeks. Let me say this...I have flown a lot in my life. A LOT! But never damaged before. And that's totally the way to go. They got a wheel chair for me, and I got to skip to the head of the security line. I got on the plane first. This is ideal.
Not that that would be a reason to ever break another bone ever again...because it isn't.
Recovering in Florida has been nice...for the most part. My parents are here to take care of my every need. Though sometimes it kinda feels like I'm a little kid again. Or like a teenager...asking to borrow the car to go get a milk shake. But it's been relaxing...which is what I need. Because I have been able to do everything I could from here. And here it's 80 degrees most days.
And I got a pedicure (look closely in the picture above) and...yes...I chose blue polish because I wanted my toes to be blue on purpose. Not because they were bruised or without circulation this time. The pedicure was amazing...because the massage was quite possibly the most amazing thing I have ever felt in my entire life. Yowza!!
But on a serious note. It has been 6 weeks. And I did a lot of damage to my ankle. I am (relatively) young. And I am following (ok...at least TRYING) Dr's orders. I have to remind myself of this on a daily basis. And the thing that often slips my mind is I have a lot of foreign objects in my body now. And this isn't like the Junior Mint episode of Seinfeld...where all is hunky dory afterward. No no...my body doesn't like that I'm turning into Wolverine. It's fighting that daily. Some days are better than others. But every day...I get a gentle...or not so gentle reminder of where every single screw and piece of metal is.
If the weather is bad...or going to be bad...it's a much worse day.
I have already had one old lady bone in my right foot for years. It tells me when it's going to rain or snow...or when the wind is going to blow too hard.
That pales in comparison to my left ankle.
The last few days have been really bad. Awful actually. 2 nights ago, I barely slept 4 hours, and I was awake every hour because my ankle woke me up, and I just simply couldn't get comfortable. And it hurt a lot yesterday. I pretty much didn't want to do anything but curl up in the fetal position. The dad, wisely, recommended that I break into my stash of pain killers so I could at least get a decent night of sleep. I haven't taken pain killers since before I came to Florida, and I was feeling really good about that. I've taken Advil a couple of times to knock the edge off...but nothing more than that. So I was hesitant...but I also figured it was a good idea.
And holy cow, I forgot what good pain killers were like. I forgot that they also have a property that relaxes you a little...makes you a little goofy. And oh yeah...doesn't really make all of the pain go away...it just makes you forget about it a little more. So that really means that I slept about as well last night as I have in the past 6 weeks.
So...6 weeks. I want to be doing more than I am. I can take a few steps...cautiously. I can get in and out of the shower, and stand there just fine. I may have walked across the room...without a boot...without my ankle wrapped in any way...and I may have gotten yelled at for doing so by the dad. 6 weeks is not a long time. And I can certainly tell that I have made leaps and bounds in recovering. But I still have a long way to go. Because some may say that taking a few steps right now is great. But I sometimes look at that and say..."but I'm a marathon runner!! I have ran 40 miles in 1 weekend before...I should be able to do so much more! I ran 20 miles 8 weeks after I had surgery last time!!" So I'm stubborn, and impatient...
I was told by a very good friend, not long after I did this, that God has been trying to teach me a lesson my entire life. And I just wasn't getting it. So sometimes God takes some extreme steps to get your attention.
Dear God, I get it. You're making me take a step back, and really listen. Next time, I'll try to remember this and not get so pigheaded that you need to break a bone again.
Kthx.
So while I am occasionally going out of my mind because I can't do much of anything...I am also trying to enjoy it. Because I know that as soon as I can be up and going again, I will be. And I have hopes that I will come out of this whole experience a better, stronger person. Because there really is no better experience to help see things clearly, and really put things in perspective. And I am trying to listen.
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Showering, Dinner, Kangaroos and Driving
2 weeks ago at this very moment during the day, I was getting my ankle set in the ER.
It has been a looooooooooong 2 weeks since I broke my ankle.
Until this past Sunday, I had been crashing with the BP at HQ...though it had been in the plans for me to head back to the farm for a few days. I was, to say the least, a little nervous about being there all on my own. I've spent a few days on my own since the break, and I've managed ok...but the farm is in the middle of nowhere, with anyone to come help a least a short distance away. So nervous is a modest description of what I was. But at the same time, I was looking forward to some peace and quiet, and getting to chill and watch some TV. So Sunday morning I packed my stuff, and collected some food...and we headed off. A short stop at Walmart for some additional food...and it was on to the farm to get me settled.
Once there, I really didn't do much, except spend my time crashing on the couch...and then for a change of scenery, move to my chair, and watch TV. I was supposed to be doing this thing called "relaxing." I guess you could say that was accomplished.
But let me back up a little. As I mentioned already, it has been a long 2 weeks. First off, I have been given orders to not really do much of...well...anything. But I'm a little stubborn, and I really dislike relying on anyone else for...well...anything.
I swear...I come by this stubbornness honestly. I actually got a double dose of stubborn. My maternal grandmother was the queen of stubborn. She was the absolute worst one about asking for help, or accepting any help offered to her, long after she shouldn't be doing things for herself. Including cooking, cleaning, and driving. And my paternal grandmother is not far behind her. In fact, the morning after I broke my ankle, my dad called to tell me that he had called her earlier in the morning to tell her what happened...and she had already been out not once but TWICE to sweep and shovel snow off her front walk because she didn't want the paper boy to slip on the snow. Never mind the fact that her granddaughter just broke her ankle on the snow. Or that she's a spry 88 years old. Nope...she needed to get that snow off the walk. So she did.
See...told you so :)
Double dose of stubborn.
And I am normally a very independent person as far as taking care of myself. So even though throughout the entire process, I am trying to keep a positive attitude...because surely SOMETHING good must come out of this...right? Well even though overall I'm trying to have that attitude, there are definitely days and moments that I don't succeed. One of the worst days was when I tried to make breakfast, and it took me a half an hour to make a bowl of oatmeal for the BP and a bowl of applesauce with granola in it for myself. Yes...a half an hour to do just that. I cried that day because there is just so much that I physically can't do right now...or if I try...it takes 18 times longer than it normally would take me to do something. And the amount of energy I expend trying to do anything is so high I'm wiped out after the simplest of tasks. So frustrated has been my mental state many times.
But people have been very supportive also. A couple from my church emailed last week and then stopped by Wednesday with a refrigerator full of food that our Sunday School class had collected for us. Very helpful, and very awesome. I cannot thank them all enough!!
But back to the farm...
As mentioned in my previous post...I have been taking a bath for the past couple of weeks because it's kinda just easier. But I was not happy doing so. So at the farm, I knew I would be able to get in the shower/bath with no problem. And I decided yesterday to just give showering a shot. I got a garbage bag, and put it over my cast, and wrapped it tight. And then proceeded to balance on one foot for as long as it took to wash my hair, and everything else. I felt awesome finally showering. But I needed a nap after. See...a lot of energy was expended. And I took another one this morning. Just thinking about it makes me smile. There is just nothing like a good, hot shower.
So, since I was so successful at showering yesterday, I thought I would try something else I hadn't done in the past 2 weeks. Making dinner, by myself, from scratch. Now...I'm not bad in the kitchen. Though I have had a few...challenges. Like setting my kitchen on fire at both Thanksgiving and Christmas 2 years ago. I figured I wasn't making anything terribly difficult...just chicken and pasta. How challenging could that be? Surely nothing could go wrong. Right?
WRONG!!!
The stove in my kitchen is not new...and it has metal burner covers...that most of the time I just move around when I'm using a burner. So I had had the chicken cooking for a while...and wanted to get the water on to boil. Well first...getting a full stock pot of water onto the stove was one huge challenge. But I made it. I had set it on the stove...moved myself. Then moved it onto the burner. But I checked on it a couple of times...and it just wasn't boiling yet. And then the smoke detector went off. I knew I had just cleaned the burners a couple of weeks ago...so I shouldn't be burning anything there. But they kept going off. And the water STILL wasn't boiling. And I was getting tired and frustrated because I had already been cooking for an hour and a half...making what seems like a million trips into the kitchen...and the darn smoke detectors kept going off!! I finally realized that when I had moved the stock pot....one of the burner covers got stuck to the bottom of the pan. It wasn't ruined...but that was the cause of my problems. So I removed that...and then it wasn't too much longer before dinner was done. But by the time I was finally able to eat, I was a wreck because of what a catastrophe it had been cooking. And I was exhausted. I was barely able to make it into the kitchen one last time to clean up and put away leftovers. But I got my stubborn up, and wouldn't let that stupid dinner beat me! Plus...I had to save the leftovers so I wouldn't have to go through that nightmare again anytime soon :)
I was so exhausted by the time I was done with everything, I collapsed on the couch for an hour before I could muster the energy to make it to bed, and take a pain pill, and get some much needed sleep.
More than one time over the past 2 weeks, I have been more thankful for pockets than I have ever been before in my life. And also, more than once, I have felt like a kangaroo, because those hooded sweatshirts I am so fond of wearing have that awesome front pocket that I have loaded down because a couple of cans of soda, a phone, keys, and inevitably something else have been stuffed in there. Hey...a girl has to do what a girl has to do. And sometimes stuffing pockets full of something is the easiest way of transporting things through the house.
The one task I hadn't tried until today was driving. It's my left ankle that's broken, so driving is something I knew I should be able to do by myself. I just haven't done it. The BP came to get me today...and told me that I was driving back. OK...I can totally do that. Before we even got on the highway, I was wishing I didn't have to do that. I was a little uncomfortable. But still stubborn. And more than once I wanted to pull over and let him drive. But he wasn't going to let me get off that easy. Nor did I really want to give up. He had to help me do some deep breathing a couple of times...and he may or may not have gotten me to howl at passing vehicles...I felt ridiculous...but it made me laugh and kept my mind off of my ankle and I made it all the way back. And then promptly laid down to take a nap. But I now feel confident that when I need to drive myself, I will be able to. YAY!! Independence!!
So...next steps. I go back to see my awesome orthopedic surgeon on Thursday afternoon. He'll take the current cast/bandage off, and remove the staples and do some x-rays to check the progress...and see how much like Wolverine I am becoming. (That being the running joke...that I'm now transforming into Wolverine...with metal attached to my bones and all) Then its back to the farm for a few days...and then off to sunny Florida!! I bought my ticket last night, and Monday morning I am blowing this popsicle stand for a few weeks!! That's really been the plan all along, and had my Dr. allowed me to travel anytime in the first 2 weeks after surgery, I would already have been there. But he said no, so in frosty IL I remain. But I'm definitely looking forward to it. The park in Florida has always been the place I have been able to relax. Plus, my parents are there, and I miss them terribly. It's been hard on me not having them...because no matter how awesome other people are at helping out...NO ONE equals your parents...no matter how old you are. And they have been having a hard time not being here to help take care of me. So I'm definitely excited about that!!
Ok...that's it for now. I'm off to lay down and take a pain pill and relax the evening away :) Until next time....
It has been a looooooooooong 2 weeks since I broke my ankle.
Until this past Sunday, I had been crashing with the BP at HQ...though it had been in the plans for me to head back to the farm for a few days. I was, to say the least, a little nervous about being there all on my own. I've spent a few days on my own since the break, and I've managed ok...but the farm is in the middle of nowhere, with anyone to come help a least a short distance away. So nervous is a modest description of what I was. But at the same time, I was looking forward to some peace and quiet, and getting to chill and watch some TV. So Sunday morning I packed my stuff, and collected some food...and we headed off. A short stop at Walmart for some additional food...and it was on to the farm to get me settled.
Once there, I really didn't do much, except spend my time crashing on the couch...and then for a change of scenery, move to my chair, and watch TV. I was supposed to be doing this thing called "relaxing." I guess you could say that was accomplished.
But let me back up a little. As I mentioned already, it has been a long 2 weeks. First off, I have been given orders to not really do much of...well...anything. But I'm a little stubborn, and I really dislike relying on anyone else for...well...anything.
I swear...I come by this stubbornness honestly. I actually got a double dose of stubborn. My maternal grandmother was the queen of stubborn. She was the absolute worst one about asking for help, or accepting any help offered to her, long after she shouldn't be doing things for herself. Including cooking, cleaning, and driving. And my paternal grandmother is not far behind her. In fact, the morning after I broke my ankle, my dad called to tell me that he had called her earlier in the morning to tell her what happened...and she had already been out not once but TWICE to sweep and shovel snow off her front walk because she didn't want the paper boy to slip on the snow. Never mind the fact that her granddaughter just broke her ankle on the snow. Or that she's a spry 88 years old. Nope...she needed to get that snow off the walk. So she did.
See...told you so :)
Double dose of stubborn.
And I am normally a very independent person as far as taking care of myself. So even though throughout the entire process, I am trying to keep a positive attitude...because surely SOMETHING good must come out of this...right? Well even though overall I'm trying to have that attitude, there are definitely days and moments that I don't succeed. One of the worst days was when I tried to make breakfast, and it took me a half an hour to make a bowl of oatmeal for the BP and a bowl of applesauce with granola in it for myself. Yes...a half an hour to do just that. I cried that day because there is just so much that I physically can't do right now...or if I try...it takes 18 times longer than it normally would take me to do something. And the amount of energy I expend trying to do anything is so high I'm wiped out after the simplest of tasks. So frustrated has been my mental state many times.
But people have been very supportive also. A couple from my church emailed last week and then stopped by Wednesday with a refrigerator full of food that our Sunday School class had collected for us. Very helpful, and very awesome. I cannot thank them all enough!!
But back to the farm...
As mentioned in my previous post...I have been taking a bath for the past couple of weeks because it's kinda just easier. But I was not happy doing so. So at the farm, I knew I would be able to get in the shower/bath with no problem. And I decided yesterday to just give showering a shot. I got a garbage bag, and put it over my cast, and wrapped it tight. And then proceeded to balance on one foot for as long as it took to wash my hair, and everything else. I felt awesome finally showering. But I needed a nap after. See...a lot of energy was expended. And I took another one this morning. Just thinking about it makes me smile. There is just nothing like a good, hot shower.
So, since I was so successful at showering yesterday, I thought I would try something else I hadn't done in the past 2 weeks. Making dinner, by myself, from scratch. Now...I'm not bad in the kitchen. Though I have had a few...challenges. Like setting my kitchen on fire at both Thanksgiving and Christmas 2 years ago. I figured I wasn't making anything terribly difficult...just chicken and pasta. How challenging could that be? Surely nothing could go wrong. Right?
WRONG!!!
The stove in my kitchen is not new...and it has metal burner covers...that most of the time I just move around when I'm using a burner. So I had had the chicken cooking for a while...and wanted to get the water on to boil. Well first...getting a full stock pot of water onto the stove was one huge challenge. But I made it. I had set it on the stove...moved myself. Then moved it onto the burner. But I checked on it a couple of times...and it just wasn't boiling yet. And then the smoke detector went off. I knew I had just cleaned the burners a couple of weeks ago...so I shouldn't be burning anything there. But they kept going off. And the water STILL wasn't boiling. And I was getting tired and frustrated because I had already been cooking for an hour and a half...making what seems like a million trips into the kitchen...and the darn smoke detectors kept going off!! I finally realized that when I had moved the stock pot....one of the burner covers got stuck to the bottom of the pan. It wasn't ruined...but that was the cause of my problems. So I removed that...and then it wasn't too much longer before dinner was done. But by the time I was finally able to eat, I was a wreck because of what a catastrophe it had been cooking. And I was exhausted. I was barely able to make it into the kitchen one last time to clean up and put away leftovers. But I got my stubborn up, and wouldn't let that stupid dinner beat me! Plus...I had to save the leftovers so I wouldn't have to go through that nightmare again anytime soon :)
I was so exhausted by the time I was done with everything, I collapsed on the couch for an hour before I could muster the energy to make it to bed, and take a pain pill, and get some much needed sleep.
More than one time over the past 2 weeks, I have been more thankful for pockets than I have ever been before in my life. And also, more than once, I have felt like a kangaroo, because those hooded sweatshirts I am so fond of wearing have that awesome front pocket that I have loaded down because a couple of cans of soda, a phone, keys, and inevitably something else have been stuffed in there. Hey...a girl has to do what a girl has to do. And sometimes stuffing pockets full of something is the easiest way of transporting things through the house.
The one task I hadn't tried until today was driving. It's my left ankle that's broken, so driving is something I knew I should be able to do by myself. I just haven't done it. The BP came to get me today...and told me that I was driving back. OK...I can totally do that. Before we even got on the highway, I was wishing I didn't have to do that. I was a little uncomfortable. But still stubborn. And more than once I wanted to pull over and let him drive. But he wasn't going to let me get off that easy. Nor did I really want to give up. He had to help me do some deep breathing a couple of times...and he may or may not have gotten me to howl at passing vehicles...I felt ridiculous...but it made me laugh and kept my mind off of my ankle and I made it all the way back. And then promptly laid down to take a nap. But I now feel confident that when I need to drive myself, I will be able to. YAY!! Independence!!
So...next steps. I go back to see my awesome orthopedic surgeon on Thursday afternoon. He'll take the current cast/bandage off, and remove the staples and do some x-rays to check the progress...and see how much like Wolverine I am becoming. (That being the running joke...that I'm now transforming into Wolverine...with metal attached to my bones and all) Then its back to the farm for a few days...and then off to sunny Florida!! I bought my ticket last night, and Monday morning I am blowing this popsicle stand for a few weeks!! That's really been the plan all along, and had my Dr. allowed me to travel anytime in the first 2 weeks after surgery, I would already have been there. But he said no, so in frosty IL I remain. But I'm definitely looking forward to it. The park in Florida has always been the place I have been able to relax. Plus, my parents are there, and I miss them terribly. It's been hard on me not having them...because no matter how awesome other people are at helping out...NO ONE equals your parents...no matter how old you are. And they have been having a hard time not being here to help take care of me. So I'm definitely excited about that!!
Ok...that's it for now. I'm off to lay down and take a pain pill and relax the evening away :) Until next time....
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
The Woeful Tale of Johanna and the Broken Ankle
I have a little bit of time on my hands. And I have a story to tell. So what better time to bring some life back into my blog!!
Those who know me, know that I am, without fail, the klutziest person in the entire world. My friends have given me a uniform of bubble wrap, steel toe boots, leather gloves and a hard hat just to protect myself from...well...myself. That being said...other than that one time I had to get a few hundred stitches in my leg, and breaking every toe...I have been extraordinarily lucky on the injury front.
Until now.
I suppose you could say I was due.
I will also add, the above mentioned uniform would likely have done little to actually prevent this injury from happening.
So many of you know, a little over a year ago, my Business Partner (BP) and I started a remodeling company. And what started out as something that was supposed to be part time for both of us, soon grew into a full time plus job. And we love it. And we have big plans. One of those plans is to start a Not-For-Profit Paint Recycling Company. It's a grass roots thing...and it's very new. So one of the ways we wanted to start getting the word out was to hand out fliers. And that task fell to me. I went out last Monday and handed out 106...and I was excited and energized. So Tuesday, I took a stack with me, and proceeded to hand out more. By the time I reached 80 fliers...I was stoked! The neighborhood was huge, and I was going to need more fliers to finish. Nevermind the fact that it was starting to snow. Or that I had skated up to a couple of houses. I was determined!!
Maybe a little too determined.
At the front porch of my 114th house, I went to step off the porch...a step of 6 inches...hit a patch of ice...feet flew up in the air, and I landed hard. And something was definitely wrong. I had never broken a bone before...but I was fairly certain that's what I had just done to my left ankle.
I was a mile from my car. And I was alone.
So I grab my phone and call the BP and tell him what happens. He asks if I can make it to my car, and I told him that was a definite "no." I try to tell him where I'm at...but I'm guessing shock was setting in, and I was barely able to talk. Let alone give directions. So he gets in the car and heads my way. And I finally had a light bulb moment to use the map on my phone to at least be able to give him a street name. And he finally finds me. SF (our employee) literally picks me up off the front porch (I'm actually really grateful the homeowners weren't home...because I probably would have died of embarrassment) and gets me in the car. We make it back to headquarters...and they finally see my leg. And yeah...there's definitely something wrong with it. I won't give you too many details because if you're squeemish like me...you won't appreciate it. Let's just say...it was obvious something was no longer keeping my foot attached to the rest of my leg. And it was swollen.
So back in the car we go off to the ER. Wheelchair was procured. Paperwork filled out. And the long afternoon of waiting began.
And waiting...
And waiting...
And waiting...
Waiting...with a broken ankle...is torture.
Waiting...with a broken ankle...on painkillers...slightly more tolerable.
X-Rays were taken...and confirmed what everyone already knew. I had broken my ankle in 3 places...and every bone that makes up your ankle was out of place.
When I do something, I do it REALLY well :)
More painkillers were dispensed. And the PA I saw (who was the only not so awesome person I have dealt with at Anderson Hospital) set my ankle. Ouchie.
Even more painkillers were dispensed.
And then I got to go home. The BP and good friend C came to retrieve me from the hospital and get me settled back at HQ. And as she was taking the polish off my toes that night (to make sure they weren't turning blue) she told me that if I wanted a girls night to do each others nails, all I had to do was ask...I didn't need to go to such extreme measures.
I'll keep that in mind :)
So a couple of days later, I got to see my Orthopedic Surgeon...who I had heard good things about. He confirmed the need for surgery, and went over what he'd be doing. And how I should be keeping my foot up most of the time to reduce swelling. It was at this point, he realized my foot was down, so, sitting across from me, he picks up my foot and puts it in his lap. He kinda won me over with that. He was totally relaxed about the whole situation. Even though I had done a lot of damage to my ankle, it wasn't anything atypical for him. And the prognosis is very good for a full recovery. And best of all, he wants to get me back up and going as soon as possible because every week I don't walk on my foot, adds another week to recovery.
Nevermind the permanent hardware my ankle will be sporting for the rest of my life.
So I have the ridiculously long conversations you're forced to have before you have surgery. I promise not to eat anything after midnight (UGH!!) and I'm all set.
So...surgery morning...I talk to the parents...who are in Florida and going nuts because they aren't here to take care of me through the whole situation and reassure them that I'm ok and I'm calm. And I'm off to the hospital.
I get dropped off. I head in. And I'm chilling in Pre-Op...just watching a little TV. And Pastor Steve and family (who are the next best thing to having my parents there) get there before I head into surgery. We're laughing...and one of the nurses comes in and tells us we are clearly having too much fun. I'm totally ok with being THAT patient :)
I met with the Anesthetist...and tell him that I don't wake up well from anesthesia...and he kinda blows me off...which is a little frustrating. Because if a normal person is groggy after surgery, I'm 100 times worse. But then my Dr. comes in to mark my leg (like it's not blatantly obvious which one he needs to work on) and he asks about my convo with the Anesthetist. I tell him. He looks at me, and tells me not to worry, he'll take care of it. Seriously...this guy is awesome. And he agrees to call the parents in Florida after surgery to ease their fears.
The next thing I know, I'm woken up from a weird dream, and I'm in recovery. In a lot of pain. And can't see crap because I had no contacts in. But one of the girls I grew up with was a nurse in recovery and came over to say hi, and see if that really was me. Then it was on to post-op. I was excited that it was only a little after 4, and would be going home within the hour. So my ride comes, and C with balloons. Instructions were given. And I was off!!
Woohoo!! Nap time!! And then a little food. And more napping!!
So surgery apparently went very well. According to the awesome Dr. my bones are young and healthy and went back together very well. Not that that is any reason I plan on ever doing this ever again. Because I don't.
Broken bones SUCK!!
So now, a week later...I am doing well. I'm still on painkillers because this is not a low pain injury to recover from...and overall I'm doing quite well. I have moments that really stink and a lot of pain to go with it...but I'm managing. I've also learned a few things over the past week:
1) Broken bones suck. (Have I mentioned that yet?)
2) I'm stubborn (ok, I already knew that) and sometimes I try to do more than I should. I get yelled at when I do.
3) Relying on other people for something as simple as getting a glass of water, or carrying my dinner plate is frustrating.
4) I miss showering. I stopped taking a bath when I was a little kid, and I haven't gone back. And I miss it dearly.
5) Broken bones suck.
6) 40 minutes is about as long as I can go relaxing. And I'm looking at at least 5 more weeks of this. I'm going stir craaaaaaaaaaaaaaazy.
7) Broken bones really suck. And so do casts. And so do crutches.
8) I am really trying to have a positive attitude through this whole process. And I'm looking forward to healing enough that I can be more active again.
9) Cute pictures of children that I love and animals put a huge smile on my face (hint, hint...if you have one of those kids and/or pets)
10) I NEVER EVER, EVER WANT TO GO THROUGH THIS AGAIN!!
So there you have it. The klutzy girl finally breaks a bone. I truly appreciate all of the help that I have been given. And everyone checking up on me, wishing me well, and saying a prayer for everyone involved. I couldn't do this without you!!
Those who know me, know that I am, without fail, the klutziest person in the entire world. My friends have given me a uniform of bubble wrap, steel toe boots, leather gloves and a hard hat just to protect myself from...well...myself. That being said...other than that one time I had to get a few hundred stitches in my leg, and breaking every toe...I have been extraordinarily lucky on the injury front.
Until now.
I suppose you could say I was due.
I will also add, the above mentioned uniform would likely have done little to actually prevent this injury from happening.
So many of you know, a little over a year ago, my Business Partner (BP) and I started a remodeling company. And what started out as something that was supposed to be part time for both of us, soon grew into a full time plus job. And we love it. And we have big plans. One of those plans is to start a Not-For-Profit Paint Recycling Company. It's a grass roots thing...and it's very new. So one of the ways we wanted to start getting the word out was to hand out fliers. And that task fell to me. I went out last Monday and handed out 106...and I was excited and energized. So Tuesday, I took a stack with me, and proceeded to hand out more. By the time I reached 80 fliers...I was stoked! The neighborhood was huge, and I was going to need more fliers to finish. Nevermind the fact that it was starting to snow. Or that I had skated up to a couple of houses. I was determined!!
Maybe a little too determined.
At the front porch of my 114th house, I went to step off the porch...a step of 6 inches...hit a patch of ice...feet flew up in the air, and I landed hard. And something was definitely wrong. I had never broken a bone before...but I was fairly certain that's what I had just done to my left ankle.
I was a mile from my car. And I was alone.
So I grab my phone and call the BP and tell him what happens. He asks if I can make it to my car, and I told him that was a definite "no." I try to tell him where I'm at...but I'm guessing shock was setting in, and I was barely able to talk. Let alone give directions. So he gets in the car and heads my way. And I finally had a light bulb moment to use the map on my phone to at least be able to give him a street name. And he finally finds me. SF (our employee) literally picks me up off the front porch (I'm actually really grateful the homeowners weren't home...because I probably would have died of embarrassment) and gets me in the car. We make it back to headquarters...and they finally see my leg. And yeah...there's definitely something wrong with it. I won't give you too many details because if you're squeemish like me...you won't appreciate it. Let's just say...it was obvious something was no longer keeping my foot attached to the rest of my leg. And it was swollen.
So back in the car we go off to the ER. Wheelchair was procured. Paperwork filled out. And the long afternoon of waiting began.
And waiting...
And waiting...
And waiting...
Waiting...with a broken ankle...is torture.
Waiting...with a broken ankle...on painkillers...slightly more tolerable.
X-Rays were taken...and confirmed what everyone already knew. I had broken my ankle in 3 places...and every bone that makes up your ankle was out of place.
When I do something, I do it REALLY well :)
More painkillers were dispensed. And the PA I saw (who was the only not so awesome person I have dealt with at Anderson Hospital) set my ankle. Ouchie.
Even more painkillers were dispensed.
And then I got to go home. The BP and good friend C came to retrieve me from the hospital and get me settled back at HQ. And as she was taking the polish off my toes that night (to make sure they weren't turning blue) she told me that if I wanted a girls night to do each others nails, all I had to do was ask...I didn't need to go to such extreme measures.
I'll keep that in mind :)
So a couple of days later, I got to see my Orthopedic Surgeon...who I had heard good things about. He confirmed the need for surgery, and went over what he'd be doing. And how I should be keeping my foot up most of the time to reduce swelling. It was at this point, he realized my foot was down, so, sitting across from me, he picks up my foot and puts it in his lap. He kinda won me over with that. He was totally relaxed about the whole situation. Even though I had done a lot of damage to my ankle, it wasn't anything atypical for him. And the prognosis is very good for a full recovery. And best of all, he wants to get me back up and going as soon as possible because every week I don't walk on my foot, adds another week to recovery.
Nevermind the permanent hardware my ankle will be sporting for the rest of my life.
So I have the ridiculously long conversations you're forced to have before you have surgery. I promise not to eat anything after midnight (UGH!!) and I'm all set.
So...surgery morning...I talk to the parents...who are in Florida and going nuts because they aren't here to take care of me through the whole situation and reassure them that I'm ok and I'm calm. And I'm off to the hospital.
I get dropped off. I head in. And I'm chilling in Pre-Op...just watching a little TV. And Pastor Steve and family (who are the next best thing to having my parents there) get there before I head into surgery. We're laughing...and one of the nurses comes in and tells us we are clearly having too much fun. I'm totally ok with being THAT patient :)
I met with the Anesthetist...and tell him that I don't wake up well from anesthesia...and he kinda blows me off...which is a little frustrating. Because if a normal person is groggy after surgery, I'm 100 times worse. But then my Dr. comes in to mark my leg (like it's not blatantly obvious which one he needs to work on) and he asks about my convo with the Anesthetist. I tell him. He looks at me, and tells me not to worry, he'll take care of it. Seriously...this guy is awesome. And he agrees to call the parents in Florida after surgery to ease their fears.
The next thing I know, I'm woken up from a weird dream, and I'm in recovery. In a lot of pain. And can't see crap because I had no contacts in. But one of the girls I grew up with was a nurse in recovery and came over to say hi, and see if that really was me. Then it was on to post-op. I was excited that it was only a little after 4, and would be going home within the hour. So my ride comes, and C with balloons. Instructions were given. And I was off!!
Woohoo!! Nap time!! And then a little food. And more napping!!
So surgery apparently went very well. According to the awesome Dr. my bones are young and healthy and went back together very well. Not that that is any reason I plan on ever doing this ever again. Because I don't.
Broken bones SUCK!!
So now, a week later...I am doing well. I'm still on painkillers because this is not a low pain injury to recover from...and overall I'm doing quite well. I have moments that really stink and a lot of pain to go with it...but I'm managing. I've also learned a few things over the past week:
1) Broken bones suck. (Have I mentioned that yet?)
2) I'm stubborn (ok, I already knew that) and sometimes I try to do more than I should. I get yelled at when I do.
3) Relying on other people for something as simple as getting a glass of water, or carrying my dinner plate is frustrating.
4) I miss showering. I stopped taking a bath when I was a little kid, and I haven't gone back. And I miss it dearly.
5) Broken bones suck.
6) 40 minutes is about as long as I can go relaxing. And I'm looking at at least 5 more weeks of this. I'm going stir craaaaaaaaaaaaaaazy.
7) Broken bones really suck. And so do casts. And so do crutches.
8) I am really trying to have a positive attitude through this whole process. And I'm looking forward to healing enough that I can be more active again.
9) Cute pictures of children that I love and animals put a huge smile on my face (hint, hint...if you have one of those kids and/or pets)
10) I NEVER EVER, EVER WANT TO GO THROUGH THIS AGAIN!!
So there you have it. The klutzy girl finally breaks a bone. I truly appreciate all of the help that I have been given. And everyone checking up on me, wishing me well, and saying a prayer for everyone involved. I couldn't do this without you!!
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