Resolutions? Nah, I Prefer Attainable Goals

The holidays have come and gone.  I have enjoyed some well deserved and much needed time off during the last few weeks.  We had the ultimate Florida weather for the season with temperatures pushing the 90-degree mark for a couple of days.  As the reality of heading back into my routine tomorrow sets in, a massive cold front has moved south and has moved me to the comfortable warmth inside.  This has given me an opportunity to reflect back and look forward.

Year In Review 

2011 was a jam-packed year for me, and while only a couple of major things happened, those things were very important to me and will impact me for many years to come.

The most important thing that happened in 2011 was that I married the love of my life.  We met almost 22 years ago on a blind date.  I knew that summer that he was the person I would spend the rest of my life with.  We have had so many wonderful years together, and we finally sealed that bond with the ultimate bond of 'till death do us part.  We had a very private, very quick ceremony on a local beach performed by a work colleague who is a notary public.  It was simple and sweet, and I am so happy to be a Mrs. now!

The other very important part of my life this year was my sub talar ankle fusion surgery.  My latest ankle fusion surgery was the fifth ankle surgery to my right foot.  Needless to say, it's been a journey of sorts for me. You can read about my latest surgery:  the history of my ankle fusion surgery, the downs of ankle fusion surgery, and the ups of my ankle fusion surgery.  I've faced many difficult realizations regarding my ankle in these last 9 months, and I am working toward coming to terms with and accepting those realizations.


Oh, yeah, I also turned 40.  I had a bit of an issue with that one, but I'm embracing it now.  

2012

I don't want to sit here and say I resolve to do this, or this, and that and this.  It's so blah, it never works, and honestly for me, it only leads to disappointment in, oh, say, about three weeks.  But, I do have some goals for the upcoming year.  Goals are attainable.  Goals can be worked toward, set aside, built on and subtracted from.  

Just to throw a couple out there for all the world to see:  

My blog.  I finally have an idea of what direction I want to go with my blog.  The mindless ramblings are a great outlet, but I do want to make this into something more.  I have a small plan in place, and will be putting it together and rolling it out in the weeks to come. 

My career.  Everyone wants to better themselves in their careers.  Professionally I have grown a lot in the last year.  I want to continue that growth.

My life.  I love my life.  I can honestly say that I am very happy.  I want to continue this happiness for the next year.  

Seashells.  I want to collect more seashells, doesn't everyone?

Happy New Year!!!

A Christmas Eve Tradition

I had never touched a golf club until we moved to Florida a little over 3 years ago.  Once fully settled in with the palm trees, Lincoln Continentals, and two-for-one drink specials, I decided that I would become a golfer.  It wasn't hard.  Hit the white ball, say a string of poetic profanity, rinse and repeat for 4 hours.  Then follow that by rewarding myself with cold beer.  My kind of sport!  Couple that with the fact that I have some limitations due to a couple of fused ankle joints, and this sport allows you to drive around to get to the next  point, well, it's a win-win!

Today marks my first golf outing post sub-talar ankle fusion, and I am so excited!  I could barely get through my last round of golf, 5 days pre-op almost 9 months go.  The love of my life have golfed every Christmas and New Year's Eve for the last three years, and I didn't want to break that tradition.  I feel strong enough to get through the round, and believe that my ankle will hold up nicely.

We'll be golfing at the world renowned World Woods Golf Club that's just a few short miles down the road from us.  They have beautiful grounds and friendly staff.  There are three courses to choose from, and even as a beginner there is something there for me.  

The weather is beautiful here in Florida today, and that will make my Christmas Eve round of golf that much better!!!


Edit:  The round wasn't great, but it wasn't horrible.  I survived without any major pain while hitting the ball.  I did have some pain/discomfort while walking around and general fatigue, but what do you expect when you have had a 9 month lay-off due to major ankle surgery?  I'm happy with the day.  And it was  beautiful!  The sun broke through the fog and turned my skin pink.  

The 5th Hole - one of my favorites.  Massive downhill with waste area to the right.

Golf Course Squirrel - a.k.a. fox squirrel or monkey squirrel.  These guys are so much fun to watch and they are totally fearless of the golf balls flying down the fairway.  

Another Week!!!

I am happy to report that I actually followed through and accomplished a couple of my goals from last week.  I totally ditched the crutch AND the cane.  The cane was just not working for me, and I ended up carrying it like little old ladies do and not using it for what it was intended.  I'm able to really get around well this week.  Had some pretty bad nerve regeneration pain this week which I haven't had in awhile, but that just means I'm healing.  I will see my surgeon this Thursday, so hopefully I will be booted from my boot.  This thing is literally a drag.  


I found my desk - for about an hour on Wednesday, but unfortunately lost it again.  It's better than it has been in the last 2 months since returning to work, but still not my normal OCD standards.  I guess I'm destined to be one of those messy work desk people. 


I did not finish my USF course, but I have actually been really sick - still.  So sick that I dragged my ass to the doctor on Thursday morning.  My little allergy attack turned into a nice little sinus  infection.  I'm now taking Amoxicillin and praying my intestines don't turn inside out.


I am figuring out my new phone.  


Spent a few hours checking out some local yard sales yesterday.  Came away with a cool vintage necklace and some clamp lid mason jars that I've been wanting for my buttons and a gift idea for the sister of the love of my life who turns 50 in November.  Today was a lazy day.  We were supposed to hit the Tampa ComiCon, but due to my illness and gimpyness, we settled for Gone With the Wind.  The love of my life has never watched it, so while we still have streaming Netflix, he indulged me and checked it out.  I never get tired of it, but am certain he'll never watch it again.


So for the upcoming week I want to get that USF course completed, get de-booted, start photographing my thrift and yard sale hauls, and get a little better at this blog thing.

Small Steps

I took small steps today.  


I made the bed without my crutches. 


I walked Murphy out to pee on his favorite tree with just one crutch.  That was kinda scary, and won't be trying that again.


I worked in the kitchen and was able to move around without any crutches.  Same thing with the laundry!


It did not kill me, it did not make me cry, and it didn't really hurt all that much either.  


It was scary as hell, but I did it, and I am proud of me!

Put One Foot In Front of the Other

I was given the clearance to start the walking process on Monday - holy hell is it ever a process.  I guess after not putting any pressure onto an appendage for over 10 weeks that it would take a little while to get used to the walking thing again.  
I do okay with the crutches and a little weight - not enough to really hurt, but enough to know that I'm putting some pressure down on something that is completely different than it was a couple of months ago.  I keep reminding myself that it's not going to happen overnight and continue being patient.
I am so anxious to ditch the crutches, because there are so many things I want to do.  I want to dig out my sewing machine, I want to photograph my flowers and the beautiful tortoises that hang out in the front yard every day, and I want to walk my wee little furry friend Murphy.  It's been so long since we walked together - longer than I can remember.  
I want to stop looking like a dummy at the thrift shops with hangers hanging on my crutches.  I want to get back to making my bed every day and helping the love of my life with house chores and dinner.  I want to drive again and I want to stop my daily fight with the restroom door at work. 

Slow and steady, push myself, but know my limitations, right? 


I think I'll sing some Chubby Checker this week when I practice!

Bitter

I'm bitter, and I feel bad about it.  


I am tired of well-meaning friends calling and asking me what I am up to.  You really want to know?  Well, today, I got out of bed, went to the couch, opened my laptop, and have been watching the Casey Anthony trial streaming on the Internet, pretty much non-stop.  I have not moved from the couch.  I can't tidy up the house, I can't run down to the beach, I can't help the love of my life while he's out sweating do death working in the yard.  You may recall that I am recovering from major ankle surgery.  It's been 2 months since I have walked, and frankly, I am becoming bitter.  I am tired of the rest of the world being able to go on with their lives and not have to worry about swelling and pain and crutches and handicapped parking places and stupid people who disregard someone who is hobbling around on crutches.  I am bitter because I am tired of being like this.


I feel bad because I am snapping at those closest to me when I know they mean well.  I feel bad because I know they aren't rubbing in their good times to me, they are my friends, and they are sharing life with me, as I've shared life with them.  I don't have anything to share with them though, and when I do share, I feel like I am seeking pity about my situation.  


Currently, my life is a lot of waiting.  I'm waiting for bone to fuse, bone to heal, calcification to take place.  I have to sit quietly, stay safe, and do nothing to jeopardize the work that has been done.  Waiting has become bitterness.  Of course this will pass, I will be back to my old self soon, but for now, I want to be bitter and angry.  

I’d Like To Tell You About A Man Named Joe

A few weeks ago the love of my life became nostalgic for his late teens and pulled out the old comic book collection.  We’ve been together for just over 21 years now, and I’ve seen this collection less than 5 times.  It was fun to watch and listen to him talk about the books, as if they were old college friends.  I asked him why he stopped collecting them, and he gave the standard reply one would expect, “beer money”.  Makes sense.  My best friend and partner-in-crime used to have holes in the soles of her shoes for that same reason.

The mother of the love of my life was an antique dealer for many, many years.  The love of my life grew up being a part of this collection and selling business and knew the importance of keeping things in good shape that may later have a resale value.  This said mother is still waiting for her resale value with two storage units chocked full of antique store inventory that more than likely will never see the light of day again, but that’s another story.

So the research began.  By Sunday, he was checking out Craigslist and putting out feelers. Phone calls were received from meth’d out folks in desperate need to tell us their life story of baby daddy’s and foreclosed homes who wanted to sell their imprisoned family member’s comic book collection probably for the going rate of a hit of meth.  This little adventure was going to be fun!!!

Two Saturday’s ago the love of my life bribed me with lunch on the beach at Sloppy Joe’s to load up my crutches and a pillow in the car if I would spend the day zigzagging across the St. Petersburg peninsula to look at comic books with him.  Beach?  Food?  Sign me up!!  My only stipulation was that if the person was a hoarder like the ones on TV, I wouldn’t be going inside.  The first stop was to purchase another piece of his childhood that was stolen from him – Dungeon’s and Dragon’s manual.  Success, and he had a smile on his face!  Second stop was not as successful in that it was a young guy who was clearly being pestered by his wife to get rid of the useless comic books a buddy talked him into taking because she needed more room in their 900 square foot bungalow for her shoes.  The dude was clearly of his rocker wanting a C note for two or three boxes full of crapola.  We left without committing, and the guy called later to beg the love of my life for an offer, any offer.  He was offered $20.00, and kindly refused, saying he would be throwing them away.  Too bad, could have taken his wife out for a cocktail.

Our last stop of the day was in the North Tampa area.  We were going to meet Joe, who said he would be home after 3:00 pm.  After riding around trying to find his pad, waiting for him to show up, getting stymied at Target because all of the fatty scooters were taken, we finally met Joe.  Joe lived in the typical Florida mobile home park; tidy little areas, with about 6 streets in it, lots of pinks and greens, and really old people.  We pulled up to Joe’s mobile home, and he greeted us at the front door.  His first words were an apology, because apparently the animal hoarder next door’s cats got into his air conditioner unit, thereby leaving the air conditioning not working.  We were going through an unusual heat wave in Florida with heat indices over a hundred and the humidity hung in the air like a wet blanket.  And that normal breeze off the sea?  What breeze?  We were getting ripped off!

Joe sees that I’m all gimpy about the same time I see the steep assed stairs leading up to the front door.  I kind of peeked around him to see if he might possibly be a hoarder (he told us he had been at the flea market all day and his vehicle was jam packed full of boxes so the possibility was there), saw that it was safe and made the trek up the giant steps.  I entered into the flaming hot mobile home and the sweat instantly started.  Joe offered me a seat at the table while he took the love of my life back to see the comics.  I figured it would be safer if we were not separated, just in case something happened, ya know?  We went to the bowels of the home, to an interior room that was sealed with an eye hook and nail.

The stifling room was filled with more boxes – this must be Joe’s flea market inventory.  He showed us where the comics where, and I tried to figure out where to sit.  Two seconds later, Joe appeared with a chair for me.  Wow!  There are still some decent people in this world.  We go through the 700 plus comic as quickly as we can, sweat pouring out of all cracks and crevices on our bodies; our shirts becoming discolored from the seepage.  Then the boys get to talking.  The love of my life has this uncanny ability to draw all sorts of details from people.  I like to say he has mad skillz – yes, that’s with a Z.  He likes that.

Joe tells us about his days growing up in the Bronx just a few blocks from the Apollo Theater to his time working as an extra for The Punisher.  He said he stood just a few feet from Johnny T (my favorite Scientologist) and was surprised at how tall he is.  Joe said he does other work as an extra, and has been offered more speaking parts, but he doesn’t want to put dentures in, so he turns those down.  Did I not mention Joe only had a couple of teeth?  Yeah, he was pretty gummy with the smiles, but he had an air of confidence about him that showed he could give a rat’s ass if anyone liked it or not.

We finished the transaction without any problems.  Joe carried the comics to the door, the love of my life loaded my little Honda Civic to the hilt with them and I sat in the kitchen.  I have to admit to one moment of holy shit, I’m going to end up this guys sex slave or dart board or loaded into a pet carrier for the next few months until my foot heals enough so I can bust out of the place, but at least with no air conditioning I can lose some weight when the love of my life was outside and I was inside with Joe.  It was a fleeting thought, and quickly passed as both men made sure I was safe getting down the Mt. Everest high steps. 

We chatted a bit more outside where the 90 plus degree temperature felt like a cool breeze in hell, and I took a good look at Joe.  The toupee was a horrible match for his hair and it didn’t go well with his skin tone, but he was probably a decent looking guy when he was younger.  He had a great personality and was fun to hang out with for a bit.  It’s interesting the people you meet in your life and how you come across them.  Joe from Craigslist was memorable and kind and someone I won’t soon forget.  I also won’t ever forget that my hair was not dry from the sweat locker of home he had even with the air conditioning blasting full on for the hour drive back home!

The things we do for our hobbies!

Big shout out to The Rat's Pack of This N That Pack Rat (of www.bonanza.com and www.ecrater.com) for use of the photo!

19 More Days

I had my 7 week post-op, sub-talar ankle fusion appointment today.  I have had a couple of good days of playing my favorite game of "What If", and had all kinds of scenarios going through my head.  What if I had a failed fusion?  What if the incision didn't heal correctly?  What if I had little blisters all over my heels and sides of my foot?  What if my foot fell off when they took the cast off?  Yeah, I know, that last one was kinda dumb, but when you aren't sleeping well, the imagination can be a scary thing.
The doctor seemed extremely pleased with my progress so far, and liked what he saw on my x-rays.  At this point I was beginning to relax and scold myself for playing too much "What If".  The he says he's going to put me in a boot (YAY, big ugly boot), but he wasn't quite ready to let me walk on it just yet.  WTF?  Talk about being deflated, though the full impact of that didn't truly hit me until a few hours later.  
I'll head back down to see him again on July 11th for more x-rays, and then take it from there.


My thoughts on this are kind of scattered right now.  What if (yes, I know...) my fusion is going to fail?  He never mentioned anything of the sort, but I do know from my vast experience with my ankle that putting some pressure on it will help solidify the fusion.  Then the love of my life (who is truly the most rational person I know and doesn't feed into my hysteria) mentioned that he just thinks the guy is being ultra conservative in his care.  That actually makes the most sense (see, I told you he was rational).  My surgeon is a pretty straight laced guy, and has been pretty laid back and conservative in all his treatment since I've started seeing him, so this is more than likely the main reason.  
So, I have 19 more days of the crutches, the knee walker, being taxied to and from work, laying around and not being able to help myself do much.  


The good in all of this though, is that I do have the boot, which gives me some feeling of freedom.  I am finally able to let my foot air out which is a very wonderful feeling.  Once the dead skin and bohemian look is gone (tomorrow - I don't think I can stand myself for much longer with this hair, I mean, I can practically braid it and bead it like they do in the Caribbean) I will post some more pictures.  They gave me a disk with all my x-rays on it too, which is so cool, and I can show ya'll where I got screwed!!!!


19 days isn't that long is it?

Random Stuff

I hate tomatoes.  They are vile and make me gag.  I will pick out the smallest piece of chunk tomato in my spaghetti sauce.

I love sushi.  I will try any type of sushi at least one time, and the only thing I have found I don't like is salmon roe - *shudders.

I wore a shirt with a hole in it to work today.

I have an obsession with making sure the toilet lid is down.  I am getting better at it, but used to go behind my house guests and put it down.

Toilet paper has to come over the top.  I've found myself changing it in public restrooms before.  I don't change it at friend's homes, though the temptation is HUGE.

Even after 20 years, I still get butterflies in my stomach when the love of my life kisses me.

I really want to live on a sailboat someday.

I have the BEST idea for a book, but I just can't get it out on paper.  

I have two friends that I have never talked to or met in real life.  We are closer in many ways than some of my real life friends.

I worry way too much about how other people view me.

I can be really, really lazy sometimes, but like to brag about how productive I am.

I have had a meltdown in Dillard's shoe department.

I hate shopping in department stores, but love to troll thrift stores.

I always walk with my head down so that I won't miss a penny to pick up or a really cool rock.

I think my dog is better and cuter than everyone else's dog.

I can live the rest of my life and never eat another bite of chocolate and be okay with that, but please don't make me go without french fries and Whoppers.

Sometimes I just wish the love of my life and our little dog could just leave the rest of the world behind and go far, far away.  Of course, I would want to at least have the Internet so that I can blog, Facebook, and Tweet about it.

Since having ankle surgery, I really hate taking a shower.  I wish there was a magical way I could get clean.

I love to play the "What If" game.  But I only really like to play it with bad thing and outcomes.  It makes it much more fun.  Sometimes, when I'm in a good mood, I like to play "What if I win the Powerball".

I really want to get a hole-in-one.

Bookworm

I’ve had my nose in a book as long as I can remember.  I love to read, and find the pastime very relaxing and rewarding.  I can travel to places that I’ve always dreamed up or I can peek through the window of how other people live.  I can lose myself for hours in books and forget about my own problems and worries.  It’s the perfect escape.

Now, don’t read anything more into this though.  I pretty much read trash.  Not bodice ripper trash, though those are fun, but generally I read things where I don’t have to think much and can get lost in a story.  I have tried to read the classics, but I just can’t get into them like I do murder mysteries, chick lit, true crime, romance, and the plethora of genres out there.

I have a Kindle.  I have never been one to jump into the hype of the latest and greatest gadget.  I mean, the only cell phone I have is a cheap flip phone provided by my company.  I think I’ve sent one text message in my life, and while I am contemplating succumbing to an Android in the near future, I’m pretty technologically dumb.  I knew about the Kindle when they first came out a few years ago, but last summer when Amazon announced that the third generation Kindle was coming out, I knew this was something I just had to have.  I did my research, I waited for it to be released and to see if there were horrible stories about it, and I saved all my Discover points to get this wonderful creation (on the cheap, of course). 

The day I bought Vinny reading changed for me.  I am started to get older, and I’ve always had bad eyesight (thanks Mom AND Dad).  The E-Ink was actually gentler on my eyes than a paperback or a library book, even large print editions.  I found that I was reading more and I was reading faster.  I loved the fact that I could “carry” a ton of books with me in my purse.  I loved that I could order a book and its right there on the device within seconds.  I loved my Kindle from the very start, and I still do!

When I was off work for my ankle surgery, the only thing I found that I was able to concentrate fully on was reading.  I didn’t keep an exact count, but I believe I read close to 20 books that month.  I could only sleep for one or two hours at a time, and it was really boring in the middle of the night with no one to talk to.  My Kindle had so many options available for me, and I was able to escape and read for a few hours until I was able to sleep again.

I have joined a few sites and have read a few blogs, and I have found that there are a lot of people who read much of the same things that I do.  Often this is how I find my next book to read.  I am going to try really hard to start reviewing some of the books that I read here on this blog.  I think it will be a good exercise for myself to be true to the author of the book and to myself if I really liked it or if I did not like it so much.  On the books that I do review, I will also post those reviews on the book sites that I belong to; Goodreads, Amazon, and Lendle.  I will be open and honest, and I will not write any spoilers into my reviews.

Let's try this, shall we?

Solitary Confinement

I've spent the last three days in what I have called solitary confinement to the couch.  While I am not alone in the true sense - I have the wonderful love of my life with me and my little dog too - I am making myself stay on the couch with this blasted foot jacked up on a stack of pillows, again.  I started back to work on June 1st with a run of three half days.  I figured that would be enough to gear me up for a week of full days.  Was I ever wrong!  I made it to Thursday, never being able to complete a full day, and had to call in sick to work on Friday.  It was truly another low point for me in this recovery.  I have only called in to work sick one other time, and I wasn't able to open my eyes due to a headache caused by chemicals in the workplace.
I can't really keep my foot elevated the way it needs to be at work.  I tried balancing it on my tower for a few days, but knocked that over on my good big toe and decided that was a bit too dangerous both for myself and office IT equipment.  So, we tried a box with two pillows on it.  This helped some, but I still can't find a comfortable position.  The only time that I am truly comfortable is when I have my foot jacked up on my desk.  This is a very uncomfortable position to actually try to work in, and it's not very professional.  I limit this to a few minutes every couple of hours, mostly when I know most people are out of the office and not walking around.  
So, I promised myself if I stayed home I would keep my foot elevated the majority of the time, and so far I have kept my promise.  Not that there is much else for me to do.  I can't go shopping (not that I would, because I really dislike shopping) or to the beach or out to dinner or really anything else.  
I'm going nutty as well.  I've had a few crying jags over the last couple of weeks.  These seem to strike out of the blue, last from a few minutes to a half hour.  I know that this is normal, but hate to break down in front of co-workers.  At home is one thing, alone is best, but at work is just not cool at all.  Then yesterday I had the total opposite.  I laughed uncontrollably; side splitting, hard to breathe, tears streaming down my face, bladder bursting laughing.  I tried to share what I was laughing about with the love of my life, and he just did not find it even chuckle worthy, so I laughed harder.
Between the laughing and the crying - today I am feeling more on the weepy side, I have come to the conclusion that solitary confinement is not for me.  Tomorrow is Monday, and I am heading back to work.  I think I am feeling strong enough after this little break to work the full days.  I think that I was both physically and emotionally unprepared and not ready for full day work when I thought that I was.  This is not the first time I have underestimated healing since this journey started back on May 5th.  
The best part about tomorrow is that I can finally say that I am getting out of The Pink Monstrosity next week!  This is enough to make a girl practically giddy, though I am keeping the emotions in check and not letting them show too much.  I may very well be going back into another fiberglass prison.  I'm really, really hoping for the big, black, ugly boot though.  Really!  


Tomorrow starts the official countdown to June 23rd!

A New Quest

I've always wondered what it would be like to have 6 pack abs.  I've had a flat-ish tummy before, and while I'm not nearly a full or pony keg, I'm a bit too soft in the mid area.  I definitely would not be caught in public with a bikini though, but I can't say I am hideous.  Well, I could, but I'm working on self-liking this week rather than self-loathing.  It's only Monday though.
Once I get through my recovery and can start actually doing something more than crutch to the bathroom and lie on the couch with my foot jacked up over my head, my goal is to get back into shape.  I turned 40 a few months ago (there!  I said it!), and have realized in just the past month that the older I am getting, the harder things are, like healing, staying healthy, and not going soft around the belly button.  I know that once I am able to walk and move around without the constant nagging pain of my ankle grinding, I will be able to concentrate on getting back into an exercise routine that consists more of actually doing activity than pretending to do some.


So, I'm willing to put in the time, the pain, and even give up sneaking snacks to try for the flat tummy.  I would even be happy with a 4 pack...

A Working Convalescence

Tomorrow I am heading back to work after being off since May 4th.  Seems like a lifetime ago at times, then other times just like yesterday.  I've had a successful surgery, an uneventful beginning to my recovery, and am getting my strength back a little every day.  Going back to work is going to be difficult at times, but it will definitely be good for me emotionally.  Have I changed any?  Have they changed any?  Will they look at me funny?  Will they even care or will they just look at me with pity?  

I'm going to work half-days this week, then reassess and see how I feel on Monday.  If I'm feeling good, then I'll go back full-time.  If I start to feel bad, I will leave early.  I am very grateful that I don't have to do any walking for my job and that my desk and office will be my refuge.  I know that it will not be easy, but not everything is.  It's going to take a lot of time to get ready in the morning, and hobbling around with crutches and a knee walker isn't a walk (ha!) in the park.  I will have to constantly remind myself that I have to go slow and not try to be a show off at work as to how tough I am.  Who am I kidding?  When it's come to this surgery, I am far from tough and even through a relatively easy recovery I get scared and nervous and apprehensive over little things.  I just have to remember that when surrounded by my colleagues.  I'm human too.  Let a little of the shell break.

Crashing My Own Pity Party

First of all, I will admit that I am a huge fan of pity parties.  I think they are necessary and can be very therapeutic.  I have two rules for my own personal pity party though.  First and most important, pity parties cannot last more than one day.  Any longer than a day is more likely a trip down the proverbial rabbit hole and stronger measures must be taken.  Second rule is that I don't invite people to my pity party.  These things really are better left to just one person.  Bringing someone into the mix can lead to broken friendships, more sleepless nights, and if done on a frequent basis relationship issues.  


I am fine admitting to those around me that I am having the pity party.  Most people will steer clear and leave me to my darkness.  Some people try to be cute and cheer me up, which sometimes will help, but more often than not is just not what I am wanting.  I want to bask in self loathing and misery and sadness and, well, pity.  I want to do it and get it over with.


Today was the perfect day for a pity party, but thanks to the love of my life, I was actually able to crash that party.  Today mark three weeks since my ankle surgery for me.  I've not been able to do much of anything, but lie on the couch, lie in the bed, sit in the chair, crutch or knee walk to the bathroom.  Each activity is tiresome, can oftentimes be cumbersome, and takes enormous effort.  Said love of my life had a paperback in hand, asked me if I needed anything, and was headed out for a couple of hours in the pool.  I just shook my head no and proceeded to settle in for the duration of the pity party.  
Then he asked me if I was enjoying my pity party, to which I answered, "of course!"  He then asked me if I wanted to join him outside.  It's too hot, my cast will feel miserable, and I retorted (okay, whined) my litany of reasons to stay inside and sulk.  My nifty little Xerosox won't be in for a few days, so I'd just tough it out in the nice air conditioned house.  
My beloved gave me an alternative and questioned my "toughness", which was basically a challenge to live up to his offer to help me through my dark day.  So, I bucked up, went with his creativity, and had total trust in him and was able to spend a glorious hour in the pool.  


Sure it would have been easier to stay inside and wallow away, but how often does one get to crash their own party?

Cabin Fever

Today was the first day, almost 3 weeks into this journey, that I have felt really confined.  I am tired, I am cranky, and I am on the verge of a pity party.  I know that I can contribute a lot of it to not sleeping well.  I'm uncomfortable and in discomfort that borderlines on pain.  Finding comfortable position while wearing this pink monstrosity is a joke.  There isn't one.  
Then you add that there isn't much a girl in my position can do since walking is out of the question for at least 3 more weeks.  I've been reading, watching some Netflix, reading, and that's really about it.  I go from the bed to the couch and back.  I can't sit outside because, well, it's summertime in Florida and who knew fiberglass was such a conductor of heat.
I did order a Xerosox this evening.  It's a latex "sock" of sorts that has an airtight seal that will enable me to get into the pool.  I think being able to enjoy the sport of lying on a raft for a few hours a day will cheer me up some.  At least the Vitamin D will do some good.  I'll do a full review and link once I get the product and try it out.
I am heading back to work a week from today, and that will help my disposition a lot as well.  It will be nice to get out of the house.  It's going to be a pain in the rear hobbling around, but I have a couple of really awesome co-workers who have agreed to be my personal servants as long as I need them to.
As I've mentioned before, I've been through the ankle surgeries before, but I don't recall feeling this way.  This time it seems different and harder.  I can't put my finger on exactly what it is.  


This too shall pass.  I will give myself one day of a pity part and move on!

Capture the Flag - Curse of A Lifetime

I have the worst ankle of any person I know.  I have had 5 ankle surgeries, and have spent countless hours of my life dealing with the pain and issues associated with ankle arthritis.
It all started back at Fort Drum Day Camp when I was probably about 10 or 11 years old.  We were playing a game of capture the flag and my foot found a nice hole and over it went.  Now, I was never a graceful child despite my mother's trying for me to be.  I took ballet, I tried out for Little League (that's an entire other post and a bottle of wine), played some sports, but I always ended up getting hurt, most specifically my ankle.


My first surgery was at the age of 15.  I was able to lead a fairly normal life after that, with some high school sports (but always getting hurt), time in the Navy (again, ankle rears it's ugly head), and a fairly long career at nursing, all of which combined together made for a pretty crappy ankle.  


I have had two ankle fusions in the last 6 years.  An ankle fusion is where two bones of a joint are pinned (screwed) together to keep any motion from happening.  The first fusion was the big ankle joint - the one that makes your foot go up and down.  The second fusion was the joint just below the big joint, in normal people, it's the joint that allows your ankle side-to-side movement.  
So, now I am in total lock down mode of my ankle.  

My most recent surgery was about 2 1/2 weeks ago.  Having this surgery has made me realize a few things.  I'm not as young as I used to be, I'm not as strong as I think I am, and I have to come up with a really good story soon to explain the massive scarring on my foot - ankle surgery is just too boring, and my mangled paw deserves to have some fun with this.


Who would have thought an innocent child's game of Capture the Flag would change the course of my life?