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.  

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!

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!