These are not the rants you’re looking for… you may pass.

So instead of writing my weekly lectionary reflection, which is already three days late, I’m going to vent and rant and rave and whine and bitch and moan and complain.  If you’re not equipped for a dose of this, then please, move on to the next blog in your google reader.

My daughter sprained her ankle last night.  After all the times I’d asked her to please not jump off her bed, to just get down like a normal person, she jumped off her bed.  When she noticed that her face was in her rug (her beloved rainbowy rug, named George), she thought this didn’t seem quite right.  It took a moment to realize that her foot was not in the right position, and another moment to realize that this did not feel good.  Yes, she’d sprained her ankle.  Of course, yesterday was my dad’s birthday (he’s SIXTY now, and not taking it so well), and we had plans to go out for dinner together.  My girl really wanted to go out and have a nice birthday, so we iced it and wrapped it, and she said she was fine.  Of course, she wasn’t.  She was as white as a hospital sheet the entire time.  After we got back from dinner and finished cake and ice cream and all, she asked me to take her to the doctor.  One copayment and several x-rays later, she was headed home on crutches.  Well, actually, I drove her home in the car; it would have been really mean to make her hobble back the two or three miles on crutches.  I may be the meanest mom in the world, but I wouldn’t do that to her!  🙂

This morning, I went to see the orthopedist.  It really wasn’t a planned kind of thing.  I went in walking slowly and carefully, and came out with a diagnosis of partially-ruptured Achilles tendon, an order for an MRI, and a note for my employer saying that I can’t travel to the big team meeting in Minnesota next week.  I drove home cussing fluently, because it’s really annoying when I’m right about something that possesses great suckitudinousness.

Once it hit 11am, I decided that I really needed moo goo gai pan, which is one of my go-to comfort foods.  Then – OMG! – I thought I might have lost the Chinese food menu!!!  I can’t quite describe the feeling of abject terror this would bring, but it’s akin to the feeling I would get when I’m stressed and tired, open up the refrigerator, and find myself to be OUT of Diet Dr Pepper.

Yeah, that’s bad.

So while I’m home with my hobbling daughter on crutches, I’m also not supposed to walk.  I’m not sure quite how to accomplish that, unless I just wheel myself around the house in my office chair.  I may end up renting a scooter.  Heck, I may end up having to rent a scooter, depending on how aggressively we have to treat the tendon.

But now that I’d cancelled all my appointments for next week – including a physical therapy session and the intake appointment with my psychiatrist (which had already been rescheduled once!) – now I’ll still be here.  Sigh.

I will admit that I’m more than tired of hurting, more than tired of going to doctors.  When poor maplestar said to me yesterday that he was amazed by my body knowledge, I honestly wanted to cry.  The body tends to just, well, make sense to me.  But it has been the pits the way I’ve had to collect some of the knowledge I have.

We’ll know better next week what I’m facing, but in the meantime, I have to rest and be patient, neither of which I’m very good at.  If you think of me this weekend, could you please send up a prayer or a positive thought for me?  I’d really appreciate it.  It’s amazing how sustaining it is to know that I’m in the prayers of others, when I find that I’m unable to pray for myself.

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One thought on “These are not the rants you’re looking for… you may pass.

  1. Scooters are _awesome_.

    I also understand the part about your body making sense. Thanks to an awesomely painful back surgery when I was five, I can tell how every muscle in my body is connected to my back. I can barely twitch a pinkie toe and tell you which muscle in my back moves to compensate for it.

    Kinda cool, especially now that the pain is safely thirty-plus years in the past…

    Like

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