Tomorrow will be one week since my surgery, a milestone I'm celebrating early. There are hours I'm engaged in work, school assignments, reading. And there are hours I'm gritting my teeth, counting down each quarter hour as I ride the pain and tame my imagination about what's going on under the splint. I stopped taking pain meds after Saturday, and the days have been doable, but the nights are like some terrible horror movie.
Robert went through a similar surgery when the tendon on the side of his ankle snapped. I'm not sure what the name of that tendon is, so let's just call it hellraiser. Though our stories are similar, Robert had the extra challenge of discovering there wasn't a groove to hold hellraiser once it was stitched back together. So he went from splint to a hard cast, because they had to grind out a new groove in his ankle bone to hold hellraiser. So yes, we've both had haywire tendon surgery stories, and he knows what I'm going through, but his was on a whole different level.
Each time I share a new pain with him, he's so nonchalant, like he's describing how a server works.
There's the fire-hot glass pain in the bottom of the heel (his response - "oh that's just blood pooling").
There's the gnawing on the back of my heel with razor teeth pain (his response - "just your stitches rubbing on the splint").
There's the feeling of giant spasms in the calf area, which feels like being bitch-smacked by a fish. You know the feeling when you're fishing and the fish comes out of the water and it's flopping everywhere and it smacks into you with all its spiny glory - that feeling but on the inside. When I told Robert this, he said, "well that's probably just your tendon coming back together."
The squeezing python pain? "Oh, you just aren't elevating it enough. That's the swelling against the splint." Like my leg is literally a sausage bursting from its casing.
Last night there was a new sensation. I told Robert it was feeling itchy in there too. Having some experience with my disgusted looks, he was even more succinct than ever. "Dead skin." And I was like, "Dead skin what?!?" He started to explain, "Well your leg isn't getting any air." But I was done. No more. I've learned my lesson. It's better to think there's a menagerie of creepy creatures having a nightmare party down there.
A couple big things happened yesterday that instantly lifted my mood and Robert's too. First, I had a shower after not showering since last Tuesday. Robert and I plotted for days the best way to do this. And really, the best way ended up being what was going to be the most entertaining for Robert and neighbors. That's how you know you're making a sound decision.
Robert waited until all of our neighbors were out taking walks and as a bonus, a city worker was digging up and replacing the old gas line in our yard. Then he found the most obnoxious spray setting on our garden hose, hauled me out of the house, plopped me on a chair where I could be viewed by our entire neighborhood, wrapped up the injured leg in multiple plastic bags, and proceeded to cackle maniacally as he Jackson Pollocked me with soap and the sprayer.
The good news is I can now tolerate being around myself and we've got a good plan for the next shower. The only difference is that we're going to do it in the dead of night.
And I also have something to do during the long hours - plotting vengeance. Robert always says he loves my creativity. So I'm sure whatever I cook up for him will be something he'll enjoy.
I knew Robert was going to pick up the girls from their little vacation at their doggie daycare, but I was so exhausted after the shower I went to bed for a while. The next thing I know there's golden retriever flying at me. Robert said Josie flew past him when he got home and opened the door. She went straight for me.
I'm the lump to the left. 😁
I am extremely fortunate to have a husband who is so incredibly nurturing and such a lover (he helped me take off my nail polish for the surgery and even found a walker like thing for the toilet so I could I use the bathroom independently). But I also have this dog who went from this happy, goofy sweetheart who made it clear from the beginning that she was a baby who needed our love and protection. Never once did she show signs of being protective or nurturing like one of our past dogs, Rose. Even as a baby, Rose made it clear that she was there to take care of us and keep us in line.
Suddenly, with this injury, Josie has become a total nurturer. She has glued herself to me since she's been home and has been so incredibly gentle with my giant boo boo. We were going to try to keep her out of the bed, but she made it very clear that wasn't happening. I told Robert if she just happens to land on me the wrong way, we'll have one hell of a story for the emergency room.
So here I type in bed, and her butt floof is all up in my laptop as it should be.
Margo is a different story. She got up this morning and gave us some hardcore stares. So Robert finally surrendered and took her to work where she can be with her beloved J and do her important shop dog duties. I love her to infinity, but she has her own agenda!
Well, I've got some important cuddling with my Jo Pie to do next. The most important thing on the list today.
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