I don't sit at home. I can't. Ok, I
can... but those are the
chosen days. The Saturdays or Sundays, or school holidays when all the chores are done... bills are paid and the idea of making human contact bothers me. My husband is not always excluded from this. How many of you out there relish those moments before the significant other is home and you can stare at your pores, or eat peanut butter out of the jar without being
bothered?? Oh he doesn't mind that I do these things... but I mind being
watched. So once in a while, when I am alone, I crawl to the couch and find myself On Demanding every movie possible and catching up on tivo, cause I NEVER tune in to a television show on the day it airs... I'll snack, doodle in my journal and count down the hours till 5:00 when opening a bottle of champagne is appropriate without being judged.
But these days are rare. I like being busy. I love my work and even when I'm stressing about it, I love bringing my work home and pouring over lesson plans and then switching gears and starting a research paper. I love making late night dinner plans in the middle of the week. (Sometimes I pretend I live in New York City, where a 10:00 dinner on a Tuesday night is tres chic) I'm not a big drinker during the week, as I have 55 children demanding my attention from 8:30 to 3:30 Mon-Fri (which might help you understand a bit more, my counting down the hours to sip bubbly on a day off, alone on my couch) as well as taking 3 classes at UCLA (huge regret btw I'm a wee bit over it!) I actually enjoy the gym (as long as I'm entertained) I looove going to the movies, riding my bike, hiking at Griffith part blah blah blah.... but again, those lovely days off, when I'm alone with my drink and awesome t.v. ... the Chosen Days.
This is NOT a chosen day. I am suffering from injury and ailments (yes I am being mildly dramatic) that are forcing me to miss work and sit on my couch. Yesterday wasn't too bad. I had some Darvasit, a Slurpee and I watched Confessions of a Shopaholic (terrible movie, but Isla FIsher is adorable)
If you absolutely can't stand complaining LOG OFF NOW. You have been warned. , it's only day Two and I am bored to tears. I can't drive, my cell phone passed away in a routine Martini spill, I miss my classroom and I don't want to take a pain pill until 5:00 when I can wash it down with you know what, so my knee is absolutely throbbing, I threw in the "absolutely" to be more dramatic and possibly sound European. Perhaps I should have said "dreadful". My knee is feeling absolutely dreadful. On top of that I have no more coffee filters and the Redbull I had in the fridge came without wings. I want a refund =(
I was born with a condition in my knee. It's hard for me to talk about because I am very very squeamish about bones and such. Basically, my Patella (the band that connects the cap-shudder- to the bone) is not in the right place, thus causing it to dislocate randomly (double shudder!) This has gone on since I was in 4th grade. It is an indescribable pain (worse than a broken bone I've heard) This used to happen maybe once or twice at the most, a year. It happened on Christmas Eve two years in a row when I was in Junior High. It didn't keep me from sports. I kicked ass at soccer and track and cheerleading was my life.
We never thought of it as a dislocation, because it would pop back in... until I was 21 and an ER doctor had to put it in for me (while I screamed and cursed) Physical Therapy followed that incident. Two years later it happened again... two years later again. My damned knees gave me a break for 5 flippen years (minus the cracks, and aches from everyday life, which I'm sure isn't normal) Well two nights ago it happened. In Bed. Insert obvious sex joke HERE. It was awful and I am not exaggerating or being dramatic this time. I'm sure the neighbors thought Jack was trying to murder me. And then, me having to pop it back in myself because I wouldn't let Jack touch me... triple shudder.
So here I am again and it's looking like surgery will be the answer. While I am stoked that I finally have a doctor who cared enough to look into my problem after my knee was back in place, and I am relieved to hear there is a way to keep this from EVER happening again (it's an awful thing to live with, not knowing when it will happen, being paranoid that it'll be worse every time, and just the pain of it all! Mamma Mia!) but, surgery! It's not the procedure. It's the recovery. That brings me back to where we started. Doing nothin'. The couch. Physical therapy everyday and possibly no driving or outdoor activities for a while. I bounce back pretty quick from things and I am a very determined spring chicken... but I am petrified of sitting on my couch... not moving, feeling sloppy, not working. Missing out on LIFE.
I think what is triggering this, is a friend who has had this procedure done on BOTH knees (surgeries were ten years apart) and it took her a year to recover and she was out of work for 6 months. Oh. My. God. This can't happen. I will be the drunk, cripple on the couch, shouting at neighbors from the window with my cane. =( Eventually, Jack will have me moved to the back guest room. The creepy dark room. He'll feed me according to Sammy's food schedule. I'll lay in bed, swaddled with blankies, waiting in the dark for someone to pay me a visit. Premature aging will start. The women in my family don't age as it is. My Mom doesn't have a wrinkle on her face and there isn't a gray hair on her or her sisters (that we can see, wink wink) But not me. I'll break that cycle. The crows feet will come first. Since I won't be able to go shopping, Jack will buy me Dial body soap (quadruple shudder!!!) and Zest (fully clean) for my face. I won't be able to get my hair done, and with all the stress it will probably fall out. Jack will buy me a hat. He'll have to get someone to feed me and Sammy when he goes on trips, for I surely will not be able to go. Soon, I'll become a myth... "Did you guys hear the one about that guy on Oak ave who keeps his wife in a cave?" =(
Well before I jump ahead of myself (too late!!) I'm going to have to talk the doctor about recovery time and what I can do to move it along. As for now, I have to rest another day. I'll be walking again by tomorrow. Thank God. It's 2:30 p.m.. and I could go for a Vodka on the rocks.
