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I Admit. With Gratitude. I’m hurting. Literally. Ow. About 2 weeks ago, at BV --while enjoying myself immensely-- I was the epicenter of a freak accident. I was in an out of the way corner, trying to be out of the way and being close to stuff that had been put out of the way, and something heavy decided to slide from its leaning spot and aim for the floor... ...just as I put my bare foot in its path. You know, That. Shit. Hurts. A remarkable bit of silver lining in this was that I had just removed my shoes and turned to get down on the ground and roll up my kit. Had it been a few seconds later, it would have been the back of my head. I was all kinds of “Oh, It isn’t broken, I’m good, just give me ice.” I must say, I am very, very, very grateful for the volunteers and organizers at BV that encouraged me to get it checked. (OK, I know am really stubborn, but smart. As nice and sweet as He was to me, I know the Head of Security’s reputation, and have heard stories of foot torture scenes. There was no way I was gonna go lead butt and win. He’s intimidating. We'll say He “Strongly Encouraged me”) Heh. No breaks, but it will be a while before my foot heals, and having medical attention and antibiotics (and pain meds) kept it from developing into something a whole lot worse. I know I am stubborn, but as I told the wonderful lady (and nurse) who set up the shuttle to take me to the urgent care and to pick me up after I filled said prescriptions, I know when to accept help. I also need to thank my roommates for being such amazing friends and gentlemen. Even if they laughed at my crabby, pain-and-codeine-addled “Fucking Fuck you!” Fest because they interrupted my sleep with the sound of their new toys (paddles on palms). *Apparently that was amusing.* They got me ice, let me try to not need help, and THEN took care of me, helped drive us home, and even rolled up really annoying air mattresses because I could not make it happen. There may have been cookies somewhere in there, too. By the way, I have learned that I process pain with humming, and cursing a whole fucking lot. I shared pics of my foot with my mom, and with friends on Telegram, but not online. Not on FB, not in Fet, not in Alt. I kind of did not want to be the focus of attention because I was injured. I got my “Poor baby”s, though. And they helped. I realize that is one of those things I don’t want to broadcast. I think it’s because I don’t want others to make a big deal out of it. Nor do I want to pull attention and energy away from others that need it; such as other injuries, illnesses, or situations that are not so temporary, or that warrant more focus and community support. However, in not bringing it up, I am also not acknowledging the people that helped. The people that took care of me. The friend that made me put my foot in her lap as a cushion at the last munch, even though I was squalling about being all kinds of “just fine!” Well, without naming names, because I did not ask them if I could: Thank you to all of you. I was a bit in shock and not being realistic about how bad it was. Your insistence and support helped me make sure I was going to be OK. I was right that it was not broken, though. Yay!! Score one for reasons to be stupid-smug! My foot is healing, but slowly. When I wake up, it only hurts on top where the impact happened, and the scab is healing. As I go through a work day and errands—while I do try to keep off of it-- it swells. And by the end of the day, it is swelling a lot, but nothing like it was during the first week. Now it is time to fucking go to fucking bed and keep it fucking elevated for 7-8 fucking hours. |
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And kitties help, too.
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Get well soon and big kiss
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