Ok, so I'm bad at updates. I make everyone worry and then I run away giggling.
Don't worry. That last part isn't true. I can't run anywhere.
So Mom has headed to a short-term rehabilitation nursing center and has been discharged from the hospital. She's in Skokie, recuperating like a real Jew. I'm so proud. She loves it there. They are having her do physical therapy for her back and all kinds of other stuff she would normally hate and hit people for making her do if she weren't in such nice surroundings. The fact that she has no choice probably helps. As do the pain killers. I'm guessing.
As for me, I had foot surgery yesterday, the very day Mom was discharged and moved to the rehab center. The hospital folk assured me this would not happen and go ahead and have my surgery. Here's a tip: hospitals can promise you nothing. This is my lesson of the week.
As a result, Mom is moved and I can't move. See, my foot surgery went well. But not as planned. I was supposed to be on crutches for maybe three days and then in a walking boot. No dice. They couldn't hold the bone in place with a screw on one of the sides that were operated on, so they have to put me on crutches for three weeks. With a walking boot I can't walk on. It's heavy, but it's acting as a cast.
Seems that if you're on birth control, casts are bad. Blood clots are more likely, and no one wants that.
Birth control can apparently prevent more than one shock when you wake up. (rimshot)
I had twilight anesthesia for the procedure, which means I was pretty much asleep but not knocked out - and I wouldn't remember anything. That was mostly true. I remember going into the OR, thinking it wasn't as cold as I expected, then waking up and wondering if my hands were tied down or if I was simply too lazy to move them. It was the latter. I think.
I woke up at the end of surgery, it seems, hearing what must have been the doc and a medical Makita attempting to drill into my foot - and the doctor cursing like a sailor. I didn't feel a thing, but at least I knew something was wrong.
Today, my doctor told me that he was certain he was more frustrated by the incident than I was, but he was "ecstatic about the bone placement."
I imagine he walked away from the phone, sans crutches, so no. No he is not more frustrated by this than I am.
So. I'm homebound for a few days, and then it's off to compete in my favorite regional sport: See If People On the Train See Your Crutches and Surgical Boot. Here's a hint: they don't. Ladies, don't sweat the footwear. No one's looking, as people have actually kicked my boot or let me stand on crutches from past surgeries. Or maybe they just don't like my face. Whichever...those people can suck it.
Meanwhile, I will attempt to not embarrass Pasko by gushing over his kindness with all of this. But holy crap...I owe that man BIG. You're...you're something else, Scott. Thank you.
While I'm thanking, so many of you have sent well wishes and offers of help...thank you. I sure have some kickass friends. I knew that, don't get me wrong, but when you're forced to be as still...you have some time to think.