all the emotions including trench foot

This past week has been a rollercoaster, one I'm stuck on for better or worse (unless the ride catches on fire or another of those catastrophes social media likes to show me sometimes).  I'm choosing to put my faith in the journey of the ride.

I've been scooting around this week like my ass is on fire (when really the fire is just my healing wound).  I started PT on Monday and have been informed warned that when I graduate from scooter to crutches I need to do everything in my power to be faithful to the crutches and not cheat with the scooter.  I've also been told that wearing any kind of bag will affect my gait and ability to learn how to walk again.  As soon as I heard this news I made a list of things I needed to get done before I become more dependent on others than I've been at any point of this journey thus far.  It will only be a few weeks they said (a few weeks?!?!?), but this means no more book journeys where I try to squeeze 20 books into my scooter basket.  No more carrying even a clipboard around when I help customers.  Hell, I could even vacuum on the scooter (but don't tell Robert). 

I also found out Monday I am losing my beloved graphic designer at my business due to her own health issues.  Not sure if you remember my recent post about my gut issues and how anxiety will find ways to kill us if we don't watch it?  Well, this is a similar story, and hopefully she finds a way to slay her anxiety beasts as well.  I've learned about two million things from her over this past year, but I have about four million more to learn.  I am now scrambling to write job descriptions, put out the word that I'm hiring, and setting up interviews, all while trying to learn all the ins and outs of the two lasers, Corel (which is the software we use at the shop), and so many other things in addition to staying on top of my other shop duties.  

During my injury Robert has stepped in too, helping me every chance he gets.  He's already been working two and a half jobs.  He's been the best thing.  Twenty years with this nerd, and I'm still thankful for him every day (when I'm not bitching about socks).

So yes, I've also had strong whiny brat feelings about the socks that were recommended when I transitioned to the boot - soccer/softball socks, which are tall enough for the outer boot and the inner ice sock and more importantly, breathable.  I can tell you right now that any desire I've ever had to become a softball or soccer player at any point in my life (zero up to this point) is forever squashed going forward.  These socks are complete nightmares.  I wear both leggings and skinny jeans no problemo.  But these socks are so tight (even though my calf has shrunk to the size of a grape and the socks are XL mens).  My calf is so incredibly sensitive the slightest pressure feels like a blood pressure cuff at its tightest.  

Robert finally caved yesterday and gave me one of his stretched out socks.  It was much better.  I proceeded to dust the entire showroom yesterday and do some production that required me to stand up with my scooter and had zero issues with the calf pressure.  Dusting the showroom was the right move too, because the HVAC folks recently descended on the building, which means much poking around, moving ceiling tiles, throwing dust, dirt, and dead bugs all over our black shelves and merchandisers.  HVAC visits are normally a chance for me to practice my creative cursing, but yesterday I just felt like an enraged, deflated mylar balloon, trailing my scooter and massive booted leg behind me.  Not sure if you've ever seen a birthday balloon fighting the limbs of a tree.  That's pretty close to how I was feeling.

Naturally, Robert's old sock gave me a case of trench foot.  God bless him, he's such a giver.  

So yea, I had PT this morning, and the first thing we did was take the boot off.  My incision is still weeping, so we've been keeping an eye on it.  The boot and sock came off, and the physical therapists both gasped and asked what happened.  The only thing Robert and I could think of was the sock, which had only been on my foot for 24 hours.  They took some pictures and messaged the doctor.  There were a few uncomfortable minutes where the physical therapists turned away from us and started whispering to each other.  I've never had trench foot before.  Apparently the physical therapists have never seen trench foot before.  Robert went into frantic Google-Fu mode, which is when he starts chewing the collar of his shirt while staring intently at his phone screen.  Meanwhile, I started to quietly panic.

Finally, the news came back from the doctor, and the tension eased up some.  Instead of spending the rest of the session teaching me how to use crutches, the physical therapists talked to me about socks while bending and squeezing my sad, bloated white foot in the spot that wasn't claimed by trench foot.  Needless to say, I cannot progress to 25% weight bearing because my heel is where the worst of it is.  So I will be on the scooter (and the dreaded soccer/softball socks are here to stay) until at least next week when we check on the trench foot.

I've had such unusual off and on pains in my heel, I didn't even think there was an issue.  When the doctor did my surgery he had to go into my heel and also up my calf due to the severity of the tear.  I just assumed it was a bunch of miserable healing going on down there.  

For now, Robert and I have been tasked with changing my sock several times a day and airing out my foot when I can be completely still and have Robert around to help me get the boot on and off.  The combination of these two things is the equivalent of finding gold at the end of the rainbow right now, but hell we're going to try.

I have been riding such a wave of emotions, trying to stay on top of everything.  I completely lost my cool after realizing I emailed a customer with a day later than planned on with his Christmas order of all things.  The work order simply got scooted over on my desk.  I attempted to storm off on my scooter, fell into a metal shelf (better that than my bum foot), and immediately chastised myself for losing my cool (as one does).

I honestly thought that one email was a sign I was going to fail all these new missions.  Thankfully, Robert was once again there for me, reminding me to give myself some grace.  I usually listen to music every day, any chance I am alone, since I like it loud and pumping through all the speakers in the house.  Music is how I heal.  It's my fuel, and how I relax.  When I was at the PT appointment today a Destiny's Child song came on (thankfully not during the trench foot moment so I don't have to think about rotten feet every time I listen to their music in the future), and I could feel all my working muscles relaxing.  I knew right then that I needed to take a break and think things through tonight while listening to some extra loud music.  I decided to sit down and write it out, face the music so to speak, and accept this new challenge that I have been given.  So I'm scrounging up some grace, both for myself and my work, creating some gentle wind to untangle myself from the trees.  Trench foot, interviews, learning first.  Second, let go and ask for help when I'm on the crutches.  Third, everything else.

Meanwhile, humor and grace.

And...finding the best person to tackle graphic design and production with me.  If you know of anyone in the Kansas City area looking for an amazing job opportunity that comes with a daily dose of golden retriever and all the feels and happiness that comes from amazing and thankful customers, please give me a shout.