Energy Crisis

I know it's incredibly lame of me to keep using the same excuses for not posting, but recuperating is sucking the energy out of my body. Doing simple tasks take forever and are exhausting. The narcotics aren't helping the situation much either; while the relief from pain is welcome, the constant haze it leaves me in makes it really difficult to get much of anything done without numerous naps.

My parents brought me home last Sunday, and made sure that I was settled in with a well stocked kitchen of food I could actually prepare while I was convalescing. The cats seemed to be happy to have me home, although they weren't thrilled about the fact that I had taken their footstool so I can keep my leg elevated. (They can no longer watch birds and passing traffic from the front window, and have to gaze out of one of the other eight million windows in the apartment.) They also seem to be a bit freaked out about the crutches, and have learned to give me a wide berth when I'm hobbling to the bathroom.

The kitties have also realized that I cannot discipline them as quickly as I used to, since it now takes me a few minutes to pop up from the couch and shoo them away from whatever it is that they shouldn't be doing. Needless to say, the gaping hole that Ma Huang has clawed into the back of the sectional has grown, and Kismet managed to knock the antenna off the television the other night. Apparently the sound of me hissing at them from the couch as I struggle to get up isn't all that threatening.

Oh, and one of them managed to chew through my phone cord while I was gone. Thanks, kids.

I went to the orthopedist last week to have the splint removed and get a boot cast. I was more than a bit curious to see exactly how much damage I'd done to my ankle; the sight of my swollen toes and the bright purple bruising that had extended above the knee had me fearing the worst. It actually wasn't that bad. The ankle was still pretty swollen, there were a few blisters that had dried and scabbed over (as well as one that had apparently been filled with blood and had dried black), and there were bruises on the back of my leg and the bottom of my foot that looked pretty nasty due to the constant elevation of my leg. There was a 2 inch incision on the left side of my ankle and a 3 - 4 inch one on the right side, both held together with surgical staples (20 in all, which the medical assistant removed). The doctor was pretty pleased with my progress, fitted me for the boot cast (which I am able to remove when I ice my ankle and when I bathe), gave me another prescription for Percocet, told me to work on flexing my ankle in a 90 degree angle (I have a slight case of foot drop), and sent me on my way.

I spent most of last week laying on the couch watching bad TV and reading various entertainment message boards. I had a few visitors (Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and JohnnyB stopped by last Monday and made lunch, and Zappagirl stopped in Thursday with a copy of Smokey and the Bandit from Netflix), but for the most part I was on my own. (Roger Mexico called a few times, since 500 miles is a bit far to drive to drop in for a visit. He's been busy as hell with classes and work and moving across town, so his phone calls were much appreciated and cheered me up immensely.) Admittedly, I got a little stir crazy last week. I'm really missing the freedom of running to the local Blockbuster on a whim.

I've had to become extremely resourceful and plan out every venture from the couch. It's not like I can make twenty seven trips to the kitchen whenever I want something. No more staring blanking into the open refrigerator, trying to decide if I'm hungry or not. (Lately, the answer has been no. I suppose that's a silver lining in all of this, right?) Every trip is mapped out - "OK, I need to refill my water. I need to go to the bathroom. And I suppose I should make some lunch while I'm up. A sandwich or something. Oh, and I forgot to take my vitamins this morning and I left my cel phone in the bedroom. And I need to ice my ankle for a bit, so I'll need to grab the ice pack and fill it. I think that's it. Here goes." Balancing all of this is a bit challenging since I have no free hands. I've been relying heavily on large pockets and my softsider lunchbox.

I went back to work this week. Ugh. You wouldn't think that a desk job would be that physically draining, but for the past few days I've come home completely exhausted. (Today was exceptionally bad, since I had to attend a staff meeting this afternoon on the second floor of my building. Stairs are still a major challenge.) I'm managing to muddle through, busying myself with cleaning up the messes that were made in my absence. I need to get things organized, since all hell will be breaking loose next week when most schools start back and we start scheduling tours and demos for the year. And it is good to be back, with something to keep my mind occupied that doesn't involve the reported awfulness of Gigli. I missed the people from work and the weirdness of trying to hold a conversation while various animals are running around the office and making noise in the background.

So things are progressing, albeit slowly. I successfully managed to hop up the stairs to my apartment last night rather than butt-scooting. (I felt like my heart was going to explode afterwards, but I still managed to do it.) I managed to wash my own hair tonight. Still haven't been brave enough to attempt the bath or shower yet. Hopefully I'll manage to do that soon; sponge bathing sucks. All I want to do is take a long hot bubble bath. And take out my trash. And get my mail. And go to Kings Island. And drive my car anywhere. And wear something besides shorts. And, oh yeah, I'd really like to be able to walk.

I suppose that will all happen soon enough. Baby steps....