I seem to have made it through surgery in one piece. At least, I think I am now in one piece, my broken ankle held together by a plate and screws. I can’t really tell because from my angle my leg looks like it belongs on the Michelin Man. I am told I did not need the “long bolt” after all — which I’m not sure but I hope means that one or both of the bolts the doctor had talked about putting across the front (top?) of my foot to anchor the ruptured tendon aren’t there. (I’m having visions of Frankenstein here, with bolts and screws and metal plates.) Anyway, if he didn’t put them in, then he doesn’t have to take them out in 12 weeks like he also talked about, which is good news, because
This. Really. Sucks.
I’ve realized this week that I would be a poor security risk, because I might say anything just to make the pain stop, especially when my leg is down — that is, when I’m on crutches making my way from couch to bed or bathroom. I’ve also realized just how much of a potty-mouth I have at these times, and I’m glad my son is in school all day (even though I’m sure he hears far worse there).
But, I do have Percocet. Oh yeah. The trick is to take it regularly, because once it wears off, it takes forever to start working again. And when I take it regularly, I can pretty much count on hazy dayz and funky dreamz. Today, my 70-some-year-old neighbor put a blanket on a momma dog that’s been hanging around the neighborhood and then put my dog Reesie on that blanket (like she was in a saddle), and then pushed on both dogs’ back ends and slid them in front of my open front door for me to see. Reesie (who usually parks herself in front of the door when it’s open so she can see what’s happening outside) promptly jumped up and started barking at herself sliding off the side of the dog-horse. And my neighbor, fun-loving guy that he is, did that for my entertainment all afternoon.
There was another guy here, too, who looked kind of like the singer dude on Dancing with the Stars — with the hat and everything…I’ve forgotten what his name is and what he was doing here, though. Dropping off more dreamz, I think. Maybe he’ll come back later.
Now, I’m going to go take another Percocet. And when I say “go,” I don’t mean I’m actually going to go anywhere. What I will do is stretch to reach the end-table and grab the bottle, and take the pill with as little water as possible so I don’t have to go to the bathroom, which entails actual movement on crutches and major throbbing pain in my right lower extremity.
I’ve been trying to catch up on reading blogs. I haven’t got through them all. I think I managed to hit a couple like buttons between my Percocet dreamz, but I couldn’t really say for sure.