Monday, February 15, 2010

the one where i break my leg...

hi there, sports fans! as usual, you will just have to trust that i have scintillating posts in the works for My Dear Readers.

in fact, on my list of sixteen things to do this week, item number sixteen reads: "kindly finish the two scintillating blog posts that you have on deck" -- {that'd be the requisite sporting terminology}.

la bonne et belle bianca castafiore is driving me and fred nigh unto insanity due to her obsession with all things "Jeux-O." last night, we caught her chatting online claiming to be québécoise, d'une vieille famille acadienne. she is a riot, though, when she affects the accent, when she really puts her prodigious nose into it.

plus, it is fashion week here at Marlinspike Hall, just as it is in the greater world of haute couture. for The Castafiore, though, its purpose serves a greater urgency, that of preparing her outfits for March Madness and College Basketball viewing. sports and fashion go hand-in-hand.

[you may recall "The ACC Semis," from last March:

"La Bonne et Belle Bianca Castafiore is decked out in a bold, strapless, beaded animal print (specifically, leopard), her considerable self poured into the sweetheart neckline whose décolletage is set off by rhinestones, the fitted silhouette amply accenting her curves, the mid-thigh slit in the front allowing the bright orange lining to flash like a stroboscopic lamp. She is plopped next to me on the bed, rounding out her come hither look with a pair of orthopedic alpaca fuzzy slippers.

During the first semi-final, she kept up a steady effff-ah you! effff-ah you! -- despite my efforts to turn that into the more accurate chant of FSU! FSU! Eventually, The Castafiore burst out of the lace-up corset that constituted the back of that safari prom dress. She's been pretty quiet since."]

you sweet folks deserve an explanation for the dearth of original posting here at elle est belle la seine la seine elle est belle. lacking that, here is what i ranted just a bit ago to some acquaintances at my favored fetish site:

good morning! i am frustrated. that's the extent of the rant, really.

oh, why am i frustrated?

in a previous rant, i explained that i have crps in all 4 limbs + the lower part of my face -- i also have severe avascular necrosis pretty much everwhere thanks to years of steroids for lupus -- plus there is that pesky osteomyelitis in my shoulders (and probably one knee, too). are you up to speed? basically, my bones suck. sometimes they rot. sometimes they fester. and... very often! they break.

i fractured my tibia saturday morning. it was a brilliant moment. i am wheelchair bound (sniff, sniff) -- it's a power chair because i cannot use my shoulders, i mean, my fake shoulders, to self-propel. i was already doing what i am not supposed to do --i was rotating our mattress.

now, i keep the thermostat very low -- as in 58 degrees. so we don sweatshirts and sweaters and are just generally swathed in layers of fabric. i try to keep the various sleeves carefully rolled up, so as to avoid accidents.

what kind of accidents? ohhhhh, the kind where your sleeve catches on the "joystick" of your power chair and drives you willy-nilly at high speed into the METAL bedframe. not possessing intelligence, the chair continues to push, push, push until the idiot driver manages to smash the OFF button in between screams.

i love the various sounds of the erupting zit: schlurp! pa-pa-pop-splat!

i HATE the sound of a bone breaking: ccccc-r-aaaa-ccccc-k.

given that it was, of course, my right leg, the one my doctor suggested amputating back in november (?), the increase in pain is practically meaningless. going from a steady pain score of 8/10 to 9/10 just doesn't mean crap, y'know? i mean, what am i going to do, take more pain medication? i don't think so.

before crps, when my bones broke, i'd surround the offending skeleton with ice. after crps, ice is contraindicated.

so we sat around and watched it swell and change colors. more fun than a movie and popcorn.

and we discussed how annoying it was that my health insurance is no more. yes, i called the medic and my doc wanted it splinted right away. i knew he was going to say that, so we had already launched an expedition into our Orthopedic Supply Closet, crammed full of boots, splints (cloth and metal as well as air), velcro, exercise bands, a collection of walkers, canes, and wheelchair batteries. thanks to dislike of organization, there were also bedpans, tennis rackets, gallons of biofreeze and betadine, bendy shoelaces (back in the day, i used to wear shoes), and a few embarrassing romance novels.

my leg, though, had decided to swell quickly, too fast for the application of a splint.

PRAISE THE LORD, because if i cannot wear a sock on my feet due to pain? i surely can no longer tolerate the pressure, touch, and weight of a booted splint.

so, no weight-bearing is the rule, also the joke, as i cannot abuse that left leg either, and cannot use any type of crutch -- for those exciting trips of 15-20 feet to get from bed or chair to the bathroom.

whew. okay, thanks, y'all. i feel better. everytime i think, "oh, fuck, i *cannot* do this..."? it works itself out. not to say that i don't sometimes look forward to the day when i truly will give up! no time soon, no time soon.

wow, heavy-duty self-pity.

the good news is that having vented, i do indeed feel better.

news that you may or may not consider "good," i think i have it in me to write again. the problem is finishing. getting it to the point where it won't be a total embarrassment if viewed by others.

you dig?


  1. I've only broken one bone in my life, in my hand. I hit an immovable object really hard the wrong way (no not another human, humans are movable), and I knew the second I did it. I remember looking at my hand and thinking, this doesn't feel right.

  2. Valiant Valdesian, that's an excellent summation of the deep thinking I managed at the moment of impact. Though it might've been more: "Hmm, this can't be good."

    Apparently, one of my more endearing qualities (it's a short list) is that I LAUGH uproariously whenever I *fall or *undergo trauma not resulting in unconsciousness. Back when I still hobbled around teaching the youth of America? I spent a fair amount of time on the ground, giggling.

    I hope you are keeping a firm grip on things in Valdese.


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