So this happened Sunday night…
Come Monday, it looked like this:
And the sad thing is, my left ankle is usually bigger than my right just by nature. It’s weird but that’s just how it usually is.
So David took me to the ER.
They said I tore some ligaments, splintted me up, gave me crutches, and 3 days of bedrest.
Let’s try to remember here that I have three kids and David’s the one that works.
Poor David’s been nonstop since Monday.
Goes to work on his bike, comes home, gets the kids up and ready for school while doing dishes and laudnry, takes them to school in the Durango, comes home, gets Owen up, feeds him, heads back to work on his bike, comes home, gets the Durgano, gets Maddie from school, feeds us, lays Owen down, take bike back to work, comes home, swaps out vehicles, gets Fin from school, brings him home, gets Owen up from his nap, takes bike back to work, comes home, does dinner, puts kids to bed – all while I just sit here or lay here like a lump on a log.
I finally had my follow up appointment yesterday. I went in with high hopes and shouldn’t have.
I have to wait for them to call me to schedule an MRI to see what’s really wrong with it. The doctor and the ER doctor both said I’d be in less pain had I actually just broken it or fractured it. And the Dr told me that if it doesn’t heal just right, I could very easily mess it all up again later on down the road.
So here I am, still on bedrest just waiting to hear about coming in for an MRI and then waiting to get that read and then we go from there.
After taking the splint off and pocking around, it’s still swollen even though I’m doing everything right.
It’s still really sore. Like I’m still taking the pain pills they gave me at the ER.
I’m on day 5 of this.
I haven’t had a decent cup of coffee all week because I can’t get up to make it and don’t want to ask David to get it for me.
In reality, I should be jumping for joy at the idea of sitting around being a bum, but I feel so bad for him.
He’s running himself ragged taking care of everything while still bouncing back and forth to and from work.
But you guys, it’s not fun.
I feel terrible for David. He busts his butt when he’s not picking up my slack.
The poor man is just exhausted by the time he gets home from work when he’s not doing my part too.
I know it’s not my fault, he knows it’s not my fault, but I just feel so awful about the whole thing.
Aside from basically being bored to tears most of the day, I just feel so useless.
I’ve cried like a bajillion times just out of frustration and pain.
I tried to shower the other day and oh my goodness, that was brutal.
Going up the stairs, down the stairs – nightmare.
David wakes me up in the morning and has me come downstairs when he gets up and ready for work so that he’s here to help me down them.
Getting dressed, going to the bathroom, everything is just a chore.
I’m an emotional exhausted wreck that feels awful for her running around like a headless chicken.
If you need me, I’ll be sitting (or laying) on the couch wallowing in my own self pity.
(this post is somewhat funny, somewhat serious just so you know. i know that i’m lucky it wasn’t worse and lucky to have david but at the same time it’s just such a sucky situation so just bear with me and my pity party, please and thanks)