Two plus weeks..are we there yet?

OK, now I'm getting impatient, which I knew would happen. Was two weeks ago yesterday I had surgery, and it's gone well, very little pain, a little twinge, twitch, tickle here and there, probably healing, I'm getting around, albeit slowly on crutches, but almost feel normal. Save for this club foot that's preventing me from free movement, playing hockey, skiing, walking like a normal human, etc.

So now I'm officially in the "Are we there yet?" stage. I knew it would happen. I have been VERY good about keeping the hoof up for the past two weeks to minimize swelling and it's worked, I have it down a lot now, leg crossed, on floor whatever, and it doesn't feel all puffy and fat, just feels like, well, a club foot. That's a hard part, too, getting used to the big old bandage around my whole lower leg, plus splint beneath. In bed it feels like I'm wearing a massive boot and 10 pairs of heavy socks.

But now I want to start therapy. I can't, they said six weeks on crutches, and I get it, but my head doesn't. It wants to move and move now. I know I can't Must convince that big open space 'tween my ears to go slow.

I've never gone slow. Every injury I've ever had, I've pushed to come back and always have. Mind you, this is THE most serious one ever and then I was well, much younger and more able to rebound. So I must go slow. Head, are you listening???

I go to doc tomorrow, taking the stitches out, I think like 30 in all, should be fun. Then a new splint and wrap. I have many questions to ask, like when can I put weight on, is there anything I can do between now and therapy to help myself out, things like that. I have many, many questions. Thankfully, they're very, very patient. Whereas, me, not so much. So we get along.

had fun with Jess today. I needed food but can't get around a store with carriage, and I surely can't carry anything to car, up stairs, etc. So we went and I got me one of those little electric grocery carts, you know, the types really old people and cripples use? Well, I'm not REALLY old, but I am cripple. At first, I felt self conscious, especially with Jessie laughing at me and taking cell photos (expect them on Facebook soon, I love that kid), but then I got used to it and it was rather fun. For one thing, it reminded me of being a kid and seeing things at three-foot level. For another, I was driving something. Men are like that. We like driving things. We like golf carts for example, and boats and things we can command. We're weird like that. That's just the way we are. And we never ask directions. In my little electric golf cart, I never stopped once for directions. I did, however, have to swap my first one out for another, the battery was dying. Jess wondered what would happen if it died in the middle of an aisle. I said you'd just sit there and turn into a skeleton if no one found you. Then again you'd have lots to eat. Unless you were in housewares or detergent. ugh.

OK, back to work.