On Friday morning, I wrote this:
Too busy laughing over Jen’s post to make decisions here… and when I’m done wiping the tears of mirth from my eyes, I will be freaking out over the impending panic that it is almost Christmas and I haven’t thought about it at all. Instead of worrying, I’m going to go take a walk.
It’s still fall, right? It’s still fall…
PUDDLE OF DENIAL (Christmas is coming)
So here’s the thing: aside from the time-wasting gained by looking through those daily catalog giggles (no offense intended, Jen — I enjoy doing it, too) the mail drop does include the ticking of the Christmas countdown clock — something I have been ignoring for the past few months. My mind has been otherwise focused. I’ve been all “BABY IS COMING! BABY IS COMING! I’M GOING TO BE A GRANDMA!!” with a due-date of December first, but I suspect that the rest of the family is more concerned about Christmas.
Or maybe not. Perhaps they have been focused on cross-country meets and driving, or work, or college finals?
It’s possible that my husband is hoping I’ll shop for and cook the Thanksgiving dinner.
Meanwhile, I’ve been sewing and quilting and checking yard sales for a chest of drawers that will be the right size to top with a changing pad. Christmas, what? Do I still have time to make gifts? I’d better check my Pinterest boards…
And then on Friday afternoon, as I prepared to go on a walk with the dog (much like the photo above), I tripped, slipped, and fell in the kitchen. No sign of cuts or bruises anywhere on my body except for this:
Both legs are stretched out straight, and both feet should be pointed in same direction… but one of these things is NOT like the other…
The above photo was taken in the ER prior to the four attempts at “reduction” for my dislocated ankle. I’m glad to say that (finally!) the 4th time did the trick. However, the X-rays show that I’ve broken my left ankle in three (3) places. I’ve been home since 9pm on Friday, faithfully taking Percocet every four hours, and hopping on my right foot behind a walker. Why yes, I did have a spare walker in my garage, a yard sale find from a few months ago. But what I really need now is a wheelchair. Because hopping on one foot is neither a secure nor smart way to get around.
Monday morning, SuperDad and I will be contacting my primary care manager (PCM) and the orthopaedic surgeon to get the ball rolling on the rest of story.
The rest of the story probably does not include my shopping for or cooking Thanksgiving dinner. It is doubtful that I will be driving myself anywhere for the remainder of 2015. Details of work are about to get a
little lot more interesting; unless a minor miracle occurs, I cannot be there tomorrow to prepare for a monthly meeting nor do I expect to make it in to the office for the rest of the week. As you may recall, I am an office of one without a replacement. Helpful documentation has been squigly since the burglary 4 months ago with changed passwords and procedures that are not all written down for such an emergency.
And I am desperately clinging to hope that the rest of the story will include being present for the birth of my first grandchild.