Reporting here on day 8. I have been taking my stupid, heavy, big and clunky boot off and giving my poor little foot a breather every few hours, and yesterday, while it was off, graceful gal that I am, I bumped my big toe on a chair in my den, which hurt, and of course, practically freaked me out of my Lululemon yoga pants (yes, I still wear them, and no, I’m not really proud of myself, but yes they are the best yoga pants for slimming and sucking in your fat, so while they insult my principles as a company, I have my priorities (my fat ass) and that is that). Anyway, it seemed to hurt in the area formerly known as “the bunion,” all day, but really only when I walked on it. I am worried that maybe I shook something out of place, like the hardware in there. I was half expecting to wake up with the screw that is now holding the bone together, rolling around my bed. Don’t you love my fertile and colorful imagination? Anyway, if you’re praying for anything today, throw a line in about my foot health, wouldja? I’d appreciate a novena, or like, whatever you got.
Yesterday was another day in front of the tv, and I have to admit to starting to feel that unproductive feeling that recovery of anything physical, always makes me feel. Having been a sick kid, with a bad back since college, and endometriosis and infertility, and a fragile immune system from a childhood of antibiotics, that makes me get anything floating around for 17 times as long as anyone else, I have had my share of having to lay on the couch, or in my bed recovering. I hate it. A lot. I never feel like I’m allowed to just lay there and get better, and still be a respected citizen. I always feel like I should be doing something, like the really together people out there (who received the Big Rule Book on Life, that I did not receive) would take this time of forced convalescence, to scan their 8,456,916 pre-digital photography pics, or write a novella, or knit a house. But I just can’t seem to get myself together to do much more than eat potato chips. Argh…..
Anyway, while in this sort of down mood I was in yesterday, the doorbell rang and there was a delivery man holding a bouquet of chocolate dipped strawberries. I grabbed them from him, barely saying thanks, and ripped open the card. It was from one of my favorite clients, and not only wished me a speedy recovery, but also told me how much they liked this blog, and how much it made them laugh! I didn’t even know they read this blog, let alone laughed at it. And just like that, I felt much better! Of course, who wouldn’t feel better with some chocolate dipped strawberries going down their throat? It could have been the chocolate that improved my mood, but I’m pretty sure it was the thoughtfulness of my client. I kind of couldn’t get over it. So big shout out to the best client ever, Thread.
Also, I got the cutest card from my friend Charlie’s mom, who I would very much like to adopt me, and a call from my cousin Barb, who made me laugh. And then icing on the cake, my friend Colleen is here visiting, taking some time away from her new and awesome life in Cali. and brought me a gift certificate for my first post-op pedicure at Mini Lux. So, although I was worried about the possibility of having maybe screwed up my foot, and that I was a slacker patient, I ended the day on a rather hopeful note, with friends and family helping me to remember, that this too shall pass (although not nearly soon enough for me). Fucking Namaste.