Wednesday, March 09, 2005

Lunch Hour Randomness

Yesterday I got an email from one of you fearless readers. He inquired about my knee (of course), and wondered aloud that if I had so much time on my hands now, why aren't I blogging more?

Truth be told, there are only so many entries I can write about a bunged up knee. I'd hate to bore you, gentle readers, because I know you land here daily, or semi-daily to be entertained or informed, or in some cases pissed off. I hate to be boring. And to go on and on about this knee situation day in and day out is tedious.

The knee is a product of an accident. It will heal in time. I'm fortunate that this is the case. Some people haven't gotten that lucky. They wake up on a normal day, and go off to do their normal little things, and something catastrophic befalls them. Their life is changed forever. Lives around them are changed forever. Sometimes not for the better.

So for me to continually go on and on about this knee and the bad hand (knee?!) fate has dealt me isn't really my cup of tea.

However, keeping this blog is part of my daily routine, so therefore I must keep on. Too bad, so sad, that my universe right now is work and home, with no changing the course right now. If the weather was better, I'd try and drive this weekend, but the prospect of driving left footed in potentially icy conditions leaves me, well, cold.

And you know I don't blog about work any more. I'm still being crucified for comments made back in the early days of this blog, and frankly that whole business has gotten to the point where if it wasn't so petty and annoying it'd be comical.

Here's a brief about the knee:

It swells up during the day, and gets huge and weird. At night, when I have my foot up, it calms down to it's normal size. Generally it dosen't hurt, but the muscles are tight as hell. I have feeling in my foot, which is a good thing, but theres a giant bruise on the inside of my heel. It dosen't hurt, and isn't swollen or anything, just purple. We'll keep an eye on it. I have a doctor's appointment Monday. Since they haven't been too concerned what I do with it, except to keep the immobilizer on at all times, I don't imagine it's going to be any big revealing appointment. They'd have foaming fits if they knew that in the last 72 hours I've: Chased the dog about a half mile thru mucky fields; moved my bed, swept and mopped in the bedroom; swept and mopped my office; changed two cat litter pans; and gone up and down the stairs approximately 5 times a night. I'm not trying to sound macho or anything, but when you're a single person, you have to do things on your own. (And I've been doing it that way for so long, that I'm not sure I'm even capable of saying Help Me Out Here.)

The sponge bath thing is a pain in the freaking ass, and I hope to soon be able to take a damn shower or at least a soaking bath. The contortions are ridiculous, and the fact that I end up using 4 towels (for the water on the floor from splashing around) just irritates the crap out of me.

Again, it's not life threatening, and I will get over it. Other people have suffered way more and have survived, so it's not like I'm going to perish over this. (OP's husband had back fusion surgery a number of years ago to relieve a seriously fucked up spinal injury. He's my hero because he went thru some major hell with all that. And she supported him, and did a lot of things for him. Props to her as well. No sucking up here, it's just the truth about how I feel about that.)

Anyway. The next post will probably be about my garden. Because, even though it's cold outside, and the winter winds are howling, the tulips, daffodils and crocus have popped up thru the soil. To me, they mean that this miserable winter (as it were) is going to be gone soon, and we can start anew, fresh and clean.

Yes please.

Carry on.

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