I feel like I should just make a big bowl of popcorn, sit back, and watch the shit show unfold before me. Monday was an interesting day. If you have been a diligent follower of my blog, and haven’t gotten sick of my rants, you know that I have been dealing with a tendon issue in my foot since January. During the plague or bitch virus, as I am referring to it, I have put myself back into the boot. I can no longer walk around in regular shoes without an abundance of swelling and pain. I made an appointment and the beginning of this week, began my new journey….reconstructive foot surgery. Awesome.
This surgery will basically provide an arch along with repairing or possibly replacing my tendon on my lacking left foot. You see I am so flat footed, that my tendon is screaming “Bitch, this isn’t comfortable for me” and now this is the end of the road. While this is a common surgery, the recovery time is long and painful. But, I can’t live like this anymore. So, I am waiting for confirmation of the date, but he promised me August 7 and made me first case because he is amazing.
As I got in my car, my head was swimming a bit. This is a big deal. I will be non-weight bearing for possibly three months. The good news is it is my left foot, so I can drive. The bad news is that I am probably going to get bitchier. You have been warned. On top of this, I have my mother to deal with and she gets anxious if I am compromised. I opted to not tell her about the surgery until the day before, but God has a twisted sense of humor. And it involved me losing my shit.
At 9 p.m., I got a call from my mother. This is the conversation….
Mom: (Calling from Alexa. We installed it in the bathroom as well as the den since she can’t see to dial the phone.) “I am so sorry to bother you, but I am in the bathroom and fell into the tub.”
Let that sink in for a moment. She is completely calm. I on the other hand was not. She has fallen….into the tub and can’t get up.
Me: “Okay. I am on my way.”
Mom: “See you soon.”
See you soon. Really? You are literally in a bathtub and you sound like we are meeting for lunch.
I grab Bryce just in case I need some extra help. We get to her home and I tell my youngest to wait in the foyer because I really didn’t know what state of dress she would be in and he doesn’t need to experience that. She was fine and I was able to get her up myself. Then, because I am incredibly fearful of how my recovery will look, I unloaded on her and verbally vomited my surgery situation. We exchanged words, because that is our dynamic, and then I left. It wasn’t the best version of me and I quickly apologized to my son for him having to experience that. He just shrugged his shoulders and said, “It’s fine”.
Mom and I spoke on yesterday, and she says that she will be helpful to me during my recovery. This means she will be compliant in asking for some other help besides me as I will be completely useless for a while. This probably won’t happen, but I appreciate the sentiment. I know it will all work out. It always does. I just like to swirl around like a lunatic until I see the outcome.