a comment from cyberscribe
I’m having a hard time sympathizing with your pain at this time. Sorry,… and hope my “mother hen” mentality that follows doesn’t ruin our friendship.
See…. I twisted my ankle the other morning as well, but didn’t have the luxury of sitting in a chair thinking about it. I twisted mine in the dark on the way to meet the ambulance taking my mother to the hospital for another of her mid-night episodes. And I had to grab an ice pack and put it on my ankle while waiting for test results to return once again. My chair wasn’t the least bit lumpy, but hard as a rock – you know one of those plastic things like we used in the classrooms. And I had to steal a small section of Mom’s emergency room bed to have my foot elevated. (Sidenote: it was kinda funny too, as poor mom was kept out of the emergency room by a friendly pitbull who looked like she had just had a litter of pups. This dog kept going in and out of the emergency room doors, and was friendly, but driving the personnell there crazy).
However, the difference between our recoveries was that I was thanking my lucky stars that one, I had the time to elevate it (albeit under not the best circumstances), and two, at least this time her phone call was at 5 AM instead of 2AM so I had at least gotten 5 hours sleep.
So I guess attitude does play a role in how fast recovery is, because even though I twisted it on Tuesday, I spent Wednesday running between chasing my mom around on her scooter, and keeping track of my 92 year old blind uncle pushing a cart, both meandering throughout Sam’s. They were happy as clams because someone finally took them both out and they got to spend an afternoon together.
Mom’s diagnosis on Tuesday was a mixed bag, in that we were able to return home as no major physical changes had occurred, but besides the heart disease, and moderate kidney disease, we were able to get a diagnosis of mild dementia. This will at least let us, as her family, be able to help her start planning for the future. The confusion and forgetfulness has been there for a while, but there’s been more frequent episodes lately, and about more important things such as messing up her medicines. (She’s been stubborn and denying its existence)So now we can hopefully convince her that she needs to have help. This means that now I can concentrate on researching alternatives, and take some time to apply for jobs.
Maybe someday I’ll be able to afford a lumpy chair like Anitas, and return to be with my poor spouse who is suffering alone in an apartment 1700 miles away from me with brochitis. I worry about him as well..
So Anita, my message to you is to ENJOY that lumpy chair, and a sore butt, as they are signs that you are still alive and living, and you have time to recuperate in style. And when you can, get off that butt, and get with your family, as the time in which they will be able to enjoy knowing who you are is limited, and getting shorter all the time.
Hmm… I’ve gotten the nickname Mother Hen from my siblings, and I’ve been fluffing my feathers and sharpening my beak to get them all to do their share, but I think I’ve now turned into a Squawking Hen for poor Anita.
Getting off the rooftop… and hoping she still loves me..