If I Didn't Have Bad Luck...

I would have no luck at all. I posted this to my Yahoo Groups, but I hesitated to blog it because I didn't want to get labeled a "whiner (I've whined a lot lately)," but I just read Anne's pitiful post, and all I felt was sympathy for her, and I thought I should explain my absence in that I'm feeling that my stitching blogger friends are family now. The good news before the bad news: I wrote the incident below two days ago. Since that time, I've taken up the needle again and will have some progress pix to scan when I feel more stable with my permanent cast, which I hope will get put on tomorrow, though I think he'll have to work me in. I'm hoping that the fact that my husband plays golf with him and that he's our neighbor will have some influence on him busting his poor butt on his first day back after vacation. He's in surgery all day, so I don't know what kind of schedule they have for him. I've got this poor temporary thing ripped to shreds from sticking things in it to scratch. I don't know how I'm going to handle this whole thing, and at my age, my attitude ain't gonna change. Phooey on keeping a positive attitude. I'm miserable!!!

Tuesday, I was going to take my grandkids to school and took a terrible spill down my daughter's concrete steps from her porch and broke my leg. I was really shaken, wind knocked out (hit chest first and you can guess what I thought got ripped off, but just the right one, lol), palms of hands got hide peeled clear off. I just lay there while my grandkids scrambled to put my cellphone together, pick up the beads from my favorite Southwestern bracelet, and kept asking me what they should do. My 15-year-old granddaughter wanted to drive me to the hospital (she has her permit to drive with an adult), but I assured them I was going to be OK, and I managed to get them all to their respective schools. Thought I had sprained my ankle really badly for the 19th time, and I was more worried about my hands and face, which looked like I'd been in a hatchet fight, and all I had was a handle. I went to McD's and took my breakfast home, where I took off my clothes to inspect the damage. Nothing got ripped off my chest (though it wouldn't have made much difference); I didn't rip my jeans, but I tore up my knees and other places on my legs, and got some immediate bruising about everywhere I looked. I got the ice packs, wrapped up my left ankle and up around my knee, which was also very sore, cleaned and bandaged skinned parts, then I just put on my nightgown and got my leg up in my recliner. My mom, dad, and daughter all tried to get me let them take me for an x-ray, but I swore I was just banged up and would recover nicely. My husband was at his job 3 hours north of here, where he works 3 days a week. He wanted me to let my parents take me to the hosp., but I insisted I just needed a few days of home care. Unfortunately, I had to use the bathroom and getting up for that was torture. By Tuesday night, I was running a fever, was nauseated and felt like I was going to pass out when I had to get up for anything. I couldn't take anything but Tylenol (what a worthless drug!) for pain, as I was scheduled for a colonoscopy next Tuesday for intestinal problems I've been having, so my Rx pain meds were taboo for a week before. I don't remember much of Wednesday, as I slept with fever nearly all day. My cats hovered around me, and my family called several times, but I just thought I was coming down with something, and that was also the cause of my intestinal problems. When my husband saw me Wednesday night, I was in our finished basement in the recliner looking pretty crummy, I'm sure. He got really scared and wanted to call the ambulance to get me up the stairs. I refused and told him I'd get up on my own power, but I started fainting, and I ended up sitting on my butt with my head between my knees (to keep from fainting), while he pulled me up backwards with his arms locked around my chest under my arms. I actually did faint near the top of the stairs, but the poor guy got me up to the top and lay me down while he started up the car and got my purse. Somehow, he got me into the car, and before I even knew it, he had me in a wheelchair and in the hospital. Sure enough, my left leg is broken---the fibula (I think) bone - that thinner bone on the outside part of the calf from ankle to knee.They gave me morphine and lots of nice things that revived me, yet mellowed me so that I wouldn't have cared if they'd cut my head off. I've canceled my colonoscopy so I can take these lovely narcotic pain pills, and I've slept around the clock for 2 days. But here I am up in the middle of the night because I kept thinking I needed get on the Internet and see what's been going on in the world. After all the sleep I've had, I feel like I need to be awake to feel alive again. As for feeling ill, fever is the body's defense system going to work, and the nausea, dizziness, and fainting are reactions to trauma and shock. I had to research a bit on the Internet to find out more about all this when my nurse told me that it was a good thing when a patient runs a fever after breaking something.

I've had to stay down most of the time, mainly because I just don't feel well and because of the narcotics making me sleep, but the crutches are a nightmare for me. I'm very unsteady on them, and I've nearly fallen several times trying to use them. I'm just a klutz, I guess.

So, that's where I've been, and it's going to be a while before my life returns to normal. I'll be so glad when this is all behind me. I'm 58, and this is the first bone I've ever had. My bone density test was excellent, even after being on prednisone for 12 years, which tends to weaken bones. Not me! I'm a corn-fed girl from the IL plains, and I have bone to spare. I'm just an accident waiting to happen, and I can trip over air.