Dr. Google is nobodyâs friend. Just saying. Too much time on your hands, with limited mobility and little more than a remote control and a laptop within easy reach is a recipe for disaster. Iâve been reading up on medial malleolus fractures, and while it may not amount to much, they tend to be more complicated than the distal fibula fracture I enjoyed last spring. I am resolving to not dip again into the Ocean of Medical Opinion that keeps beckoning me until I get to see the orthopedist. Of course I also resolved to lose twenty pounds this year, and we all see where I got with that.
Right now the hold-up is getting a workerâs comp case number assigned. The specialist I have been referred to wonât see me until the file is officially opened. Iâm guessing theyâve been burned before by workerâs comp claims that turn out not to be. Still â¦ today is Tuesday, I got hurt last Thursday, and thereâs still no word that anything has moved forward. I promised myself that I wasnât going to bug anybody till Wednesday, but I didnât promise myself what time Wednesday. Iâm hoping the front-line supervisor is awake at 6:00am. Cause I am. And other than brushing my teeth and feeding the cats I donât have a helluvalot on my daily calendar at the moment.
Learning from the last time around, The Professor wasnât going to let me slide upstairs on my butt to get to bed every night and then slide down the stairs on my butt every morning. He took the box spring and mattress off the twin bed in the spare bedroom and set them up downstairs in the dining room, an easy twelve feet or so from the powder room. On the downside, my world has become that much smaller, but itâs only temporary. Iâm working on my skill with crutches, but so far it remains âwalking with chopsticksâ territory. And I canât use chopsticks for squat.
At first I declined the offer of painkillers that the hospital tried to push on me. After all, I did fine without painkillers the last time I broke my ankle, and I hate the way they make me feel. But after three and a half hours in the emergency with the pain failing to abate, I was open to perhaps changing my mind. I didnât use the Percocet they gave me until I went to bed. I took one at 10:00pm and another six hours later. I then spent the entire next day nauseous. Cured of Percocet, Iâve been happy to be painful since then. My appetite is still off, but thatâs just as well since making any kind of meal and then transporting it to a place I can eat it is an effort Iâm not entirely willing to make at the moment.
Maybe Iâll lose those twenty pounds this year after all.