I Had a Pity Party Tonight…

Do not…I repeat…DO NOT be afraid of these, ladies. I mean it!

Do not…I repeat…DO NOT be afraid of these, ladies. I mean it!


I feel a little better now.

I had my first pity party, complete with tears, since I fell and broke my fibula on November 13. I cried when it happened because it hurt, and after that? I didn’t really complain, because I was just super grateful I didn’t need surgery. I found ways to make good use of my time, adapted at work, crafted, crocheted, and have been a pretty good sport about the whole thing. Till thirty or so minutes ago.

I was in the tub with my tablet and was reading a thread in a weightlifting group I belong to, as well as my feed on FB, and I lost it. I cried ugly. I’m discouraged, sad, jealous, feeling weak and flabby, impatient and pissed off.

At some point, over the past two years, I’ve turned into some kind of fitness diva…no, maybe junkie is the right word (even though ‘diva’ sounds much more cool) and I depended on fitness and exercise to make me feel good about myself. It took these 8 weeks to realize that I don’t feel whole without it. I have experienced Zumba envy. And lifting envy. Oh, and running envy. I haven’t wished ill will on anyone, mind you, because that isn’t like me, but boy, am I jealous! Realizing that made me lose it. I don’t make a habit of envy, for the record.

I’ve been good about following all the doctor’s orders. I really have been, but c’mon. I did my sentence, paid my dues and all that.

I was able to ditch my moon boot a week ago last Tuesday, and have kept the offending body part supported as prescribed by my orthopedist. Last week I managed a day at 10k steps, but not since, because I listen to my body; ESPECIALLY that ankle. I backed off when I needed to. I even went so far as to heat my rice bag at work, elevate my foot and find ways NOT to be all over the hospital.

Yet here I sit, left ankle swollen almost as big as it was when I got my stylish grey moon boot, and in about as much pain. WTActualF is THAT all about?

I mean, c’mon! I followed directions; became a hooking (crochet reference, just so we are clear), NetFlix addicted couch potato, stayed off of it, wrapped it, encased it, exercised it per doc’s instructions.

I am just so futher mucking frustrated with my body’s inability to heal. They say when you get older you don’t bounce back like you used to. Hell, I don’t bounce at all! I, apparently, break, and then take my sweet @$$ time mending.



What was the last hurdle you had to overcome?

How did you handle it?

Did you cry ugly?

Until next time…

Better Living Through Pharmaceuticals

Where I work, you just have to check them in to take them.

Where I work, you just have to check them in to take them.

Today was my first day back to work since my horrible stripper pole accident.

Yesterday I was able to get around quite a bit with my fashionable new moon boot and could put a little weight on my left foot without pain.

This morning? Not so much. I think I knew that this was going to be the case when I was trying to get my awesome knee sock on. (I have a few ridiculously cool knee socks that are colorful and fun, and a pair that simply say, “BAD ASS” with an arrow pointing up on the back of them.) After two tries, I got the sock on, wrapped my foot and ankle with an elastic bandage that has velcro on one end (Look, Ma! No clips!) and was ready to put the boot on so I could get ready for work with the help of just one crutch.

A note about velcro strip elastic bandages. You have to really pay attention to which way the velcro strip is facing (next to impossible to do when it’s rolled up and the velcro is in the center of the roll) because it is really annoying to find that you have meticulously wrapped the affected area perfectly, but the strip is on the wrong side. That was me yesterday.

At any rate, I got the boot on and found that bearing any weight on that side was pretty painful, so I went for my Ibuprofen. I was not trying to go to work with a mellow Norco buzz after having not been there all week. I knew I had crap-tons of stuff to catch up on, the biggest stressor being a monthly report that needed to be online by tomorrow that I hadn’t started yet. Yes, I knew my assistant had started it, but I also knew that she had other things going on at her desk and that my abandoned duties were not the sun, in that everything needed to revolve around them.

The hubs brought me to work, carried my (about to be seriously downsized) handbag into the office for me and helped get me situated. My assistant had washed out my coffee cup, and had a cup of coffee fixed just the way I love it in my hands within a couple of minutes. She had also filled my 24 ounce Tervis water glass with fresh ice water and informed me that not only had she worked on my report, she’d finished it. Can I just say that I was totally feeling the love? #TeamServiceCenter for the win!

I was about 3/4 of the way through the couple hundred emails that had found their way into my inbox during my absence when my boss called. “Can you come here?” he asked. (And when he says this, it sounds like, “cannyew-cuhmmeer?”) I told him I could, although I am on double crutches and it would take me a few to get my steno pad tucked into my waistband and get myself over to his office. “Never mind,” he said. “Stay there. I need a couple of really important things taken care of…” and off he went, rattling off my short laundry list of things I needed to do, half of which were on my front burner, already. Then he asked me about the status of the software program I’ve been working on implementing on the tablets our Environmental Services management team is using. I had to stop and think for a moment, as it’d been a few weeks since I’d even thought about that. I told him, in my best trying-to-sound-with-it-and-informed voice, “Uhhhhh….hmmmm….Wow…I haven’t really given THAT much thought…let me back up a little.” At which point, he started laughing and told me that going backwards might be dangerous and to be careful. I guess I must not have said anything, because he stated, “Hey, I cracked a joke,” at which point I coughed out my most sincere fake chuckle. That cracked him up. I know it didn’t sound like it, but I was super happy to be back behind my desk.

By 9:45, my ankle was singing to me so loudly I was surprised the other girls couldn’t hear it. I broke down and crutched my way down the hall to employee health services to alert them about my then-impending dose of Norco. Some mornings are better than others and this was one of the others, so I needed chemical support. Which I got. Which made work extremely amusing. Which, in itself, is amusing.

People are funny. My boss is actually humorous on most days, but today? I thought he needed to take his routine on the road. I think he would have a HUGE following in PT/Rehab clinics where the majority of the audience would also be on chemical assistance.

I made it through the day in kind of a warm fuzzy fog. I had plenty of help; the girls kept my water glass full, my assistant hooked me up with a plate of hot wings with carrot and celery sticks when it was time to eat, I had easy access to the little girls’ room, because one of them always went with me to push that “heavy” door open on the way in and pull it on the way out. I found that the commodes across the hall are a lot lower than the ones in my house, so yay for a deeper commode squat, right?

Even in my mildly altered (is that the word I’m looking for? I wasn’t stressed, which is different, so maybe “altered” is correct) state, I was able to absolutely concentrate on doing what needed to be done and I knocked that mess out in record time. I meet with the boss in the morning tomorrow to go over what he asked for today and I’m going to be able to present a couple of completely overhauled job descriptions, some policies that need additional verbiage, and a memo from the HazMat Coordinator that needs his seal of approval.

All in all, a very productive day. It flew by and I get to go back and do it again tomorrow. 🙂

In the meantime, I’m going to have a little dinner, attempt to get into the tub (without further incident) and catch up on the posts of my favorite bloggers…

Have you ever had to do your job while under the influence of anything out of the ordinary? How did you get through the day? Was your focus better, worse or about the same?

Until next time.

I Finally Caught a Break!!!!!

Finally caught one. Image courtesy https://cottonbureau.com

Finally caught one. Image courtesy https://cottonbureau.com

Okay, granted…It wasn’t the kind of break I’d been hoping for, but …

Ok, so I broke my damned ankle last Thursday night. I know the first thing that is probably crossing your mind is, “OMG! Jules, how did you do that??!!”

What I want to tell people is that I did it badly landing a jump at the ice rink, or that I did it during a Warrior Dash.

What I actually tell people is that I fell off one of my platform stripper shoes during pole dancing class (pretty lie). Then I tell them the ugly (read: stupid) truth. I fell over one of my papillons. Hard. Went down like a ton of frigging bricks. HEARD that sucker break. I howled, the Hubs came running. I cried. A lot. OMG, y’all, it hurt so BAD! I couldn’t put any weight on it, so he got me to the recliner, propped it on a pillow and put a bag of frozen peas on it. I could still feel my toes, and he said that was a good sign, even though I insisted I heard it. About an hour or so later I texted the girls at work and told them I had taken a tumble (not that it surprised anyone, as gravitationally challenged as I am), and that I might be late for work Friday. Then I went to bed.

The next morning found me unable to bear ANY weight on my left foot at all, so I hopped to the bathroom, did my thing, hopped out and the Hubs helped me get dressed. I texted the girls to tell them I was heading straight to the urgent care clinic. (Because a $50 co-pay is so much better than a $300 co-pay at the ER, right?)

I found I couldn’t get down the brick steps from the porch to the sidewalk, and it was starting to rain, but I didn’t care; I went down on my butt, pulled myself up, and hopped to the truck.

We had a ridiculously short wait to see the doctor, who was simply AMAZING (and will have a banging’ thank-you card in the mail ASAP). He asked what happened, and I told him about the dogs, and he took my slipper and sock off to examine my ankle, and OMG! My TOES! I was mortified, to say the least. I have this terrific shade of turquoise:

This looks so cool when fresh...

This looks so cool when fresh…

It was much like the image above…I’d last done a pedi in August, and then kind of “refreshed” it about six weeks ago, but ignored those toes since then, because it’s gotten kind of cold-ish and I pretty much ignore my toenail polish from September to March. Well, damn. If my toes didn’t already look gross, that half-rubbed off polish sure did.

At any rate, off to x-ray we went. The verdict? Yeah. It was broken…my fibula. I even have a picture:

At least it was a fairly clean break.

At least it was a fairly clean break.

The doc told me it didn’t look like it was going to need a pin (read: surgery), which was good, but probably would need to be cast. He wouldn’t do it there. He said that the area would be swollen the most by the third day or so, and that casting it before that point would be a bad thing; would cut the circulation off in my foot and toes, toes would turn blue, then turn black, then fall off, and that nobody is happy when their toes fall off. I know he was kidding, but you can cool believe I was watching my toes like a hawk, all the while hoping that a purple cast wouldn’t cause my toes to fall off.

I got a half-cast, which basically consisted of a hardened fiberglass “U” shaped splint under my foot and up each side of my calf to about knee sock height, wrapped in cotton and then a couple ace bandages. They gave me some nice, light-weigh aluminum crutches, got me a follow up to our orthopedic office, wrote me a ‘script for some nice pain meds (which I am still taking, so bear with me…) and sent us on our way.

This weekend I watched TV. A lot of TV. I had several episodes of Grey’s Anatomy, Chicago Fire, How to Get Away With Murder and some of my other favorites waiting for me and I burned through those like nobody’s business. By Saturday I needed my Netflix, which I stream through the Wii. Streaming was hit or miss, Saturday, but I updated the software, and I was able to watch a couple of Dexter episodes rounding out the 6th season, and got all of about 15 minutes into the 7th season when the stream started blowing up.

By Sunday, the stream was completely horked, so the Hubs wired my laptop and speakers to the TV and I watched several hours of Dexter and the remake of “Carrie” before I got tired and hobbled off to bed to try and get some sleep, which I actually did.

Damn, that looks like it hurts...

Damn, that looks like it hurts…

The thing that ticks me off about this whole thing? I’m a control freak, and my inability to get up and get something as simple as a cup of coffee or a glass of water pissed me the hell off. Plus, sleep was elusive. I’d move in the middle of the night and the comforter would hold my foot down and I’d holler. One of the dogs would move and I’d holler. I’d wake up because I’d had entirely too much water before bed, and I’d have to CAREFULLY find my way to the bathroom. The Hubs wasn’t sleeping, either, because, apparently, I was a hollering fool more than what even I was aware of. I have also learned that my pain meds dry me out, so I am guzzling water like nobody’s business.

What I did learn, during this time, was while I had initially grumbled about why this couldn’t have happened when I was overweight and inactive so I wouldn’t MISS exercising and lifting as much as I am, is that I am stronger and more fit than I gave myself credit for. The lifting? It gave me upper body strength that allowed me to use my crutches without relying on those “padded” armpit rests. I have also been doing modified pistol squats to sit and get up from the toilet…I have dubbed these “commode squats.” Yoga has been a godsend in that I can stand on one foot like a boss and not fall over, which comes in handy when one is putting on makeup or drying one’s hair. I have also learned that while my fibula might be broken? My sense of humor is still in one healthy piece. On Friday we had to phone in our auto insurance payment, and a good friend of mine is our agent. I’d told her earlier that morning, while I was in the waiting room, that I’d fallen and messed up my ankle. So the Hubs calls and puts her on speaker phone, at which point she refers to me as the International House of Pancakes…you know…IHOP. Bwahahahahaah! No, she didn’t…Yeah, she did! LOL…

I somehow managed to get the old green polish off of my nails and got my right foot polished in the color shown in the image above, and the Hubs was kind enough to do my left foot for me last night so it wouldn’t look terrible at the doctor’s office. He didn’t do too badly for his first ever attempt, no? What a guy! ❤

My follow-up at the ortho office was this morning. I was really worried; I kept thinking if I had to be pinned that it would put me out of work longer than I am comfortable with. I also worried that if I was going to have to get a cast, how the hell was I gonna be able to scratch? I had been lucky that most of where my leg would itch was within finger’s reach, and not under where the fiberglass was.

Absolute BEST case scenario!

Absolute BEST case scenario!

I got really lucky! I didn’t need a (purple) cast. Instead, I was given an ace bandage and an “Aircast” walking boot, and was released to go back to work on Thursday, which actually makes me happy, because what fun is taking a bunch of PTO when you can’t really accomplish anything, right?

I’ve been practicing walking around the house until such time as I couldn’t, well, because pain…and finally got myself in here to sit in front of the computer to blog this. It’s the first time since Thursday, that I’ve felt anywhere near wanting to be in front of a screen if it wasn’t streaming Dexter or The Godfather, which I actually watched last night for the first time…ever! (I know…what kind of Sicilian am I, having never watched a movie that’s been out since ’72, right?) It was good, but I am not kicking myself for waiting forty-some years to catch it, although Pacino was really cute back then, and I am curious to see what happens with Michael & the Family in the next one (or two or however many after there are)!

So…I’ve held you captive long enough…

Until next time…