Labels: Amanda, Being a Chic, Being Mommy, My broken foot, my crazy life

Remember new cute boy? We try not to confuse him with the original cute boy... which could probably be helped by giving them names but you just can't force name giving. It has to come to you.

Cute boy transferred here like two days before I broke my foot. As you can imagine, breaking my foot really threw a wrench into my ability to bond with new cute boy. Which sucked as we seemed to get along and were just getting to that "get to know you" place. But then I broke my foot and spent the better part of the next six weeks sequestered in my office and on the rare occasion that I was able to come out, I was the pathetic girl on crutches.
Note to self: Do not break your foot again!!!

Anyway, new cute boy started to date some chic he met anyway and as he was a self professed long term relationship dude, I figured they'd be dating for awhile. However, in the meantime we've become friendly. In the weeks following my unfettering from the crutches, we've been chatting and I usually spend the last hour or so on Friday afternoons sitting in his office just talking.

And he's cool people. We dig him. While he is two years younger than me, he's done a lot of living as most of you know I have. (And if you don't know, there are a slew of History Lessons in the sidebar somewhere that will get you all caught up on my crazy life.)

So anyway, over the last week or so we've been talking a lot and had talked about hooking up outside of work to hang out since we seem to get along so swimmingly. Oh yeah, just totally used "swimmingly". Oh you know you're jealous.

So then, he comes into work on Monday and I am telling him about how Noah has a date with some chic and how funny is that since we were just talking about him on Friday and I was telling him I was worried about Noah not having any kind of social life. So he is asking me where the two of them are going on their date and how they met, etc. and I'm telling him everything I know, which isn't much and asks me to keep him updated. Which I thought was a little different.

So then I tell him that I almost called him Saturday night to see if he and hid girlfriend wanted to join Fairy and I to see 27 Dresses. And then he tells me that he and his girl split up over the weekend. I of course am all "I'm so sorry new cute boy, I thought everything was going well" and he doesn't seem too bummed about it... saying it was mutual and I don't push for more details.
And then do you know what I did people?

I am still spending a fair amount of time pondering the decision to blurt out that next brilliant idea.

I say to him, "Oh my god, you should totally go out with Fairy!" (Who he met at the Christmas party.) And then I think why did I say that? I assume it is because my brain is acting faster than... well other parts of my anatomy. He says something like, "oh, well yeah, ok..." and then says that the three of us should go out together and do something.. so that he can see if he digs her or not and because it will be fun. Like going to see 27 Dresses. I'm all, you don't want to watch 27 Dresses, it's totally gonna be a chic flick. And he says he digs chic flicks what with having had three sisters growing up. So I tell him that maybe we can go this weekend if I am not knackered after having packed and moved all my shit from one dwelling to the other (likelihood that i won't be too knackered: 6.3%). I like the word "knackered".

Then he says something unexpected, "Hey Kate, I'm off on Sunday, I can come help you move." I'm all you don't want to come help me move Silly Boy. It's your only day off and in case no one has told you, moving sucks a fair amount of ass. But he is all persistent saying that he would be happy too, "plus Kate, I have a truck!" So I tell him that if I am not all moved by Sunday I'll give him a call. And then I tell him that I talked to Noah and he is talking about taking the chic bowling (since he had asked me to let him know what happened) and he is all, "we should totally go bowling! That would be so fun!" And I said another one of those things that makes me wonder if someone should take a peak at the inside of my head and make sure it's all functioning properly. I say I don't know if Fairy likes bowling but I should ask her... Like I just keep forcing Fairy on him.

And maybe he wants me to since I've mentioned it or maybe he wants us to hang out and every time we talk about it I am Fairy this and Fairy that. Because I'm an idiot of substantial proportions.

Like I have any fucking idea how to do this anymore anyway. It's been FIFTEEN MONTHS since I've done the deed people. Fifteen months! We should all just be happy I don't get into a room with a boy, fart loudly and giggle.

Anyway, we chat through out the rest of the day and it is becoming clearer and clearer that he'd like to hang out. But what isn't clear is whether he wants to just hang out as friends or if he is considering more than that. He is flirting but geez, who doesn't do that any more? It's almost like a cultural thing.

Let's skip forward to later in the day. He left work at two for the day and I tried to concentrate on things that were not about boys which was easier since Original Cute boy and New Cute boy were both gone. But then at four he comes back. I wanted to ask him why he was there but he and I were both busy until I left. So I shot him a text message saying I thought you were free for the rest of the afternoon? He sends one back saying that he was and I text him back and say something sarcastically about how I personally love to spend my free time at work too. Then he writes back the very blunt "So what are you doing tonight?" and I respond with something about the usual: dinner, kids, baths, bedtime, packing and he says "Do you need any help?" to which I tell him I'd sooner be hung by my toenails and have every hair on my body pulled out with molten tweezers and then be put in a tub of scorpians than have someone see my house in it's current state but I appreciate the offer and how about we just try to keep our plans to try and do something this weekend? So he texts back with, "Sure. Give me a call if you change your mind."

And I'm all... whhaaaattt is that?

I'm texting poor Snow Elf with "call me, call me, call me, call me right now. I don't care if you are at work goddamnit! I need your unbiased opinion, help me. Help! Call. CALL." Ok some of that was internal but she knew it was implied. Didn't you Snow?

Then I think, what was that sound? Sure sounded like the little *click* of my mind changing.. I start working the brother angle to see if he would be cool with me bailing which he seemed to be cool with.

I send new cute boy a text and say "Are you still at work?" and he writes immediately back and says "I'm about to leave" and before I can even respond, he writes again, "I just left" so I text him and ask him if he's ever seen The Count of Monte Cristo. [An aside: I'm always shocked by how many people haven't seen that movie! Geez people, watch it. It's so good.] Anyway he writes back and says he hasn't and I take a super deep breath and write back "well how about I bring it over and we can watch it?" And he says sure and then I changed my clothes four times.

Fortunately Snow got off work and we were able to talk while I was on my way to his house. I shared with her the whole entire above story and asked her what the hell she thought was going on and her honest opinion: Stop trying to set him up with Fairy! We talked for awhile and I told Snow that my main thing is that I really like original cute boy and I don't want to screw up the chance (if there ever is one and I can't promise there will be) by making him think that I'm all like Other Girl at Work who sleeps with half the freakin' company. But at the same time Original Cute boy has been talking to me a little lately and cracking jokes and so I am wondering if maybe he is starting to consider it. Of course the opposite would be that he thinks I'm done trying and just wants to be pals. But what do I know? Remember? Fifteen Months.

I get there at about seven and his apartment is exactly what you would expect of a single dude. It's a one bedroom with a loft upstairs that has a poker table and a wet bar. Downstairs the small living room has a phenomenally comfortable leather couch and a ratty arm chair placed in front of the fifty some odd inch tv with the x-box 360 hooked up. Very tidy. In the "dining area" is a huge shelf of dvds and the kitchen was small and clean which was far less surprising once he showed me he didn't have a spec of food in the whole apartment. His bathroom had bare essentials: shampoo, razor, soap, toothpaste, tooth brush, hair gel. I didn't peak in the cabinets. But remember Snakeman? Snakeman knew I was coming over and made it a point to guy-clean his bathroom... you know, wipe the counters, make sure that there was a new roll of toilet paper on the roll, put the seat down. Now maybe new cute boy did a guy clean of everything and forgot the bathroom but me with my mommy glasses on was all thinking I wanted to tidy. Which I refrained from :)

I can hear ya'll all "get to the effing point already Kate!"

The short of it is, we watched the movie but paused it like four times to talk and one of those times for over an hour. And since I am a chic and one who is paying attention to little tiny details because that's just how I roll, I was watching to see if he was gonna make a move or do something obvious to insinuate that he might want to. We both sat on the couch and there was some playful touchy stuff but nothing that crossed any line. At one point I pulled the neck of my shirt down a little to scratch my shoulder and I very clearly saw him looking at the teeny bit of skin I had shown but that was pretty much it. I didn't pick up on any signs that he was trying to make a move and wasn't sure how to but then again, what does that even look like anymore?
All in all, I had a good time but stayed up WAY too late. I got home around midnight and passed smooth out. He came in this morning and said he had a great time and wants to know when we are going to do it again. And he reoffered to come over on Sunday for moving if I needed him.

Labels: At work, Being a Chic, Being Retarded, Dating, History Lesson, I'm a loser, My broken foot, my crazy life, My pathetic excuse for a love life, Noah, Snakeman

So, I just hobbled into my podiatrist's office. I was a little scared since I had ran my crutches through a car smoosher as soon as I got the darth vader boot. I thought about lying and saying I was using them but why? Why do people lie to their doctors? That can't help your healing process at all. So I walked in and signed in and his wife/receptionist/nurse says, "Well look at you! You're walking so good!" and I mention that I am hoping I'm not in trouble for not using the crutches and she just smiles at me. Which does nothing to alleviate my nerves.
So after five minutes of Better Homes and Gardens she calls me back to the patient room where I wait for her husband.
And here is the great part!
He says, excitedly, that he can see I am off of the crutches. I say that I have been for a little over a week and he says that's great! Yay! But then tells me that the darth vader boot remains necessary and I will need to keep that on for at least another two weeks. Two weeks! Buddy, I can keep it on for another month if you want me to! The darth vader boot is NOTHING compared to crutches. I don't know where any of my left shoes are anyway!
He inspects my cut and tells me that it has healed cleaner than any he's ever seen before and he doesn't even think I will have a scar!
I am scheduled for an x-ray on January 11th (I'll see if I can get a copy of it since it will have the screw in it!). And an appointment with him on the 16th where I will maybe, just maybe, be told I can stop wearing the boot.
If so... If he gives me my foot back on the 16th, it will have been sixty-two days since I broke my foot. That's almost nine weeks.

Labels: My broken foot, my crazy life

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
My crutches were set by the headboard with care,
So if I needed to go pee, they would be there.

My daughters were nestled all snug in their beds,
And while visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads -
Their momma unstrapped her big black boot, the one like Darth Vader
and set it next to her bed for later.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
The pain tore up my leg in a rush,
And I spewed out some curses that would make a sailor blush.

I strapped on my boot with all it's velcro
and grabbed my crutches from next to the window.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.

I rubbed my eyes and checked the pain meds next to my bed,
but this vision was not in my head.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

I hurriedly crutched myself to the front door,
And stuck my head into the cold to see some more.
The sight I had seen was no longer in the sky,
I leaned back on the door and let out a little sigh.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
I slid right to the floor, my crutches clanking to the ground
And he turned to see what had made that sound.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

He leaned over and offered me a hand,
Which I accepted and used to help me stand.
He picked up my crutches and handed them to me,
Then went back to work under the tree.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

Labels: Christmas, My broken foot

So, last week I went to the podiatrist to get my cast.
All day long people kept asking me, "So are you getting your cast today?" And I kept answering by saying, "Or maybe I'll walk in there and he'll say guess what Kate? You don't need these crutches anymore!" Everytime I said that, the person I was talking to would chuckle and walk off.
At four, I left work and headed over to see my doctor. I had to wait longer that day that I have any other day before which was really annoying me since I wanted to get home. It was Friday! So finally they take me to the room and I sit down and my doctor unwraps my foot. And people? It was my foot! Not like the giant swollen thing I had before, this was my normal sized foot! He pops all my stitches out and then says, "You know what Kate? I don't think we are going to put a cast on this. I thinkI want to get you into a walking boot so you can start builing these muscles back up." He then went on to tell me about what kind of physical therapy he wants me to start doing and then he sent his receptionist/nurse/wife into get me all fitted into my darth vader boot (pics on flickr).
I am allowed to put 50% of my weight on my hurt leg so I am supposed to be using my cruthes still. But three days in, I stopped using them. And I know a ton of you are about to call/email/comment that I am a moron but I can't help it. I have SO MUCH SHIT TO DO. Which leads me to my next news... but I don't want to jinx it so ya'll will have to wait for a week or two.

Labels: At work, My broken foot, my crazy life

New Construction Boss stopped by today to say hello. He asked how my leg was doing and I told him it was ok and that I am scheduled to get my cast tomorrow. Then, he picked up a lemon and squeezed the juice all into my wound. And it burned. Then he grabbed some salt and ruuuuubbbbbbbed...
Ok, well not really but he figuratively did.
He asked me what color cast I was getting.
And then I threw myself on the floor and cried. And then I cried some more. Then I climbed half way back into the chair, flopped back onto the floor and cried some more.
Ok, not really.
I whiningly (take that spell checker) admitted that my podiatrist doesn't have colored casting material. And that I, the amazing, spectacular, fabulous Katehopeeden would have to have a boring, dull, regular, white cast.
And then I sighed. Heavily.
Then, New Construction Boss said that the last time he had to get a cast, he got a camouflage one and his daughters thought it was soooooooo cool.
And then Rico Suave says, "Yeah, I had a camo cast once but no one could see it so they were always bumping into it."

Labels: At work, My broken foot, my crazy life

Much less swelling:

Labels: Being a Chic, Being Mommy, community, My broken foot, Triniti

I'm sorry ya'll! I have to admit that Friday really sucked a lot of my positivity out of me. When I hurt my foot on the stupid slippery porch, it really kicked my ass and it was hard for me to pull out of that mood. It was just such a huge reminder of how much this sucks and how much I hate not being able to walk.
And then the surgery which hurt. like. hell. yesterday and I was even more down.
It's hard to stay up and happy when you are in pain and unable to do much about it or the ridiculous nausea that came with it. And even more so when it feels like your house is crumbling to ruins around you. And your brother, who is the only other adult help, has had the flu for like a week and although he's trying he really can't do much and you don't blame him but then you do because he can walk and then you feel bad about that because you know he really feels horrible. And when it's weeks away from Christmas and you have NO IDEA how you are going to shop for fuck's sake because it's so hard.
But then last night happens. Last night when the pain finally melted into something tolerable and I could keep crackers down and then my antibiotics and some pain meds. Last night when the ABSOLUTELY amazing Fairy comes over and cleans my kitchen and my living room because she is just fucking sweet as hell. When Noah takes Amanda and Emilee and picks up dinner so I don't have to worry about what everyone will eat and the fact that the kitchen will be a sty afterwards,
If you know me, you know that I CAN'T STAND to ask for help. And I can't stand to not be able to do something myself. I am proud and stubborn and INDEPENDENT and I have a helluva time admitting I can't do something even when I CAN'T, the last thing I want to do is call someone and ask them for help. Even if EVERYONE I know has called me and offered it. And Fairy, because she is amazing and because she really knows me, came over and told me to shutthefuckup while she cleaned. Because she know I won't ask and because she knows I am pulling all of my hair out and biting all of my nails off and stewing in the pain that is a messy house.
She is totally getting something awesome for Christmas.
But it was that reminder that I am so very blessed to have people like her in my life and so blessed that my foot will eventually heal and that I am going to survive this period of time and one day look back at it and realize that yeah I had to have some humility but it wasn't the worst thing to ever happen to me.
And sure enough, this morning, the pain was even a little more tolerable and I got up at 4:30 and got in the shower (because I am SO caught up on sleep) and got ready for work. And now I am here and on Darvocet rather than hydrocodone and sipping Starbucks and checking all my email and life is slowly coming back to normal. I have an appointment with my podiatrist today and I should have my cast in the next week or two.
But more importantly Miss Effing Cranky-Pants is in hiding and the old katehopeeden you know and adore (I hope :P) is back and apologizing for the cranky posts and whiney phone calls.
Thank you all so much for calling to check on me (even if I didn't answer the phone) and emailing me (even if I didn't answer you) and posting comments (even if my answer posts were bitchy). I love you guys and I am so lucky to have all of these great friends.

Labels: Being Mommy, community, missing in action, My broken foot, my crazy life, Noah, self loathing, The Universe, Who do we love?

Surgery went well yesterday. The Cake Lady picked me up, took me for pancakes & Starbucks and then home where I went to sleep. I slept until about 5 virtually without any pain.

But oh baby let me tell you that after five when the numbness in my foot wore off? Yeah, it was like when I first broke it. Hurts like hell.

So basically I've been on the couch with my pain pills in pain & nauseated. So much so that I threw up this morning which was so fun.

Anyway, I've gotten all of your emails and voice messages and THANK YALL so much :) I promise I will get back with more once I stop feeling like shit. My doctor promises that today is going to be the worst day.

Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device

Labels: excuses excuses, mobile blogging, My broken foot

Today ranked a solid 2.
Today it rained.
It wasn't raining this morning, just cloudy... But sometime during the afternoon, it began to rain.
I didn't think anything of this until I was leaving work.
When I was crutching (I've inducted the word "crutch" into my dictionary of verbs) my way to the door it suddenly occurred to me that rain plus handicap ramp equals another broken bone.
So as I stepped out onto the porch, I tentatively placed my crutch onto the wet ramp and put a little weight on it which caused the crutch to slide across the ramp.
Which caused me to curse The Universe.
So I crutched back to the door to get help but stopped because, well, what are they going to do. I turned around and the crutch I had tested the slickness of the ramp with was still wet and slid right out from under me causing me to put all of my weight onto my left foot. Which didn't hurt. Until I got to the car. (embarrassment evidentally keeps pain at bay)
And then it hurt like fucking hell.
Like it did when I first broke it.
And my ass cried.
And then came home and took a hydrocodone & watched The Polar Express with Trin.
And then when I came to get in bed, I did the exact same thing only this time without wet crutches to blame.
I have no idea how I am going to do this for weeks. Maybe months.

Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device

Labels: At work, Being Mommy, Health, mobile blogging, My broken foot, organization, The Universe, Triniti

Surgery: December 3rd
Met with my podiatrist yesterday and set up surgery for Monday. I have to be there at 6am. The Cake Lady is totally kicking herself for offering to take me :P
He showed me my CT scans which I didn't ask for since they look EXACTLY like the x-rays (what was the point in that???)... but basically the bone is completely broken and not touching the other bone. There is at least a millimeter of distance between the severed bone peices (freaking metric system). There is a small chance that the bone will mend but it just isn't a gamble I'm willing to take.
Here's a question though (and don't laugh), do they take the screw out later? Or are you just setting off airline beeper systems for the rest of your life?
I feel like I don't even know my own body here. Yesterday when we unwrapped (and I am such a bad blogger for not bringing my camera but DAMN it is hard to carry shit) my foot, it was huge still. Huge people. And the colors... I couldn't believe it was still so swollen. My doctor said that my goal for the weekend should be to get the swelling down before Monday. When I asked him why it was so swollen he said that my body was sending three times as much blood to my foot to help fix it.
And then the whole drive home I was trying to figure out how that would cause it to swell.
Did it mean that my whole foot was full of blood just swishing around?
If I cut myself would blood just pour out?
Or is the tissue in my foot some how more full of blood then it was before?
What kind of tissue does one even have in their foot?
And how could it get bigger? Isn't tissue already at whatever size it can be?
If it stays like this will I end up with all this extra stretched out skin down there?
If there is more blood down there in my foot, is there blood missing from some other part of my body? Like my brain? Because my brain sure feels like it is missing some blood.
It's all so confusing!
And Google was of no help.
It kept on sending me articles that had nothing to do with what I wanted to know. It was all like, "Here's the thing Kate, you are using every day words and so I have to send you to every day answers... You're searching "swollen, foot, blood, break" - that is going to take you to a page about broken foot with swollen and blood being used as symptoms... were you to use technical words maybe I could send you to technical answers... then again, most people who actually know these technical terms don't even need to look them up. So... your stupid."
Hey, thanks Google.
I just don't understand it all. I fell like an alien in my body.
It was like that one time that The Therapist was trying to explain how anti-depressants worked. I think it took him like three hours before I understood it. And it was cool but I could never explain it to someone else.
I need a nap.

Labels: Being Retarded, My broken foot, my crazy life

Geez, the arms you have to twist to get the inside of your body pics!
I am working on the CT pics, I'll ask my podiatrist to email them to me tomorrow when I go in to look at them and set up my surgery.
Yup - surgery.
I know ya'll have been commenting and emailing about how evil surgery can be and maybe a year from now when I realize I can never wear high heels again (*gasp* the horror!) I will have to post a "You All Told Me So" post but as of right now, I am freakin' jazzed.
I need to walk.
And everything I've read says that I have a better chance of healing quicker with the surgery.
My Jones Fracture has been upgraded to an Avulsion/Jones Fracture.
And to the best of my knowledge means I've broken and torn stuff.
And the broken stuff is "displaced and rotated 5.6mm".

Labels: My broken foot, my crazy life

Well other than the whole not having to cook Thanksgiving dinner thing... The Cake Lady cooked everything without any help from me and while I barely help on years where I am fully able, I usually do the super easy stuff like mashing the potatoes or chopping up stuff and of course the super important job of standing around in the kitchen drinking and giving moral support.
This year though she totally did EVERY thing. Which was awesome because it was all so very yummy.
Anyway - speaking of food - the first positive aspect of my stupid Jones Fracture:
I have been so utterly and completely nauseaus for almost two weeks. I am sure to lose at least ten pounds from not being able to eat.

Labels: My broken foot, Thanksgiving, The Cake Lady

And then I called my podiatrist (I can't believe I even have a podiatrist) and he talked for about fifteen minutes in code saying things like "tendons" and "ligaments" and other words I don't know anything about. Then he said that they couldn't tell if something was twisted or not between my bone peices which are not touching and that is apparently bad.
So tomorrow my foot has an appointment at 12:30p to get a CT scan.
Can you believe that? I've surpassed regular old x-rays and now have to get a CT scan!
Dude - when I break shit? I break it good.
I am so asking them to email me the pics. I didn't this morning because I didn't think ya'll would want to see more xrays of the same broken bone but CT scan pics are bound to be more cool.

Labels: My broken foot

Here is the break: my Jones Fracture (otherwise known as The Suckiest Thing Ever.)


I was supposed to get my cast on Wednesday. It was going to be white because the stupid podiatrists in my stupid town don't have colored casts and apparently only orthopedic doctors do. But me, being one of those people who is always afraid of hurting someone's feelings, can't bail on my podiatrist now that he's seen my naked foot and his wife (also his receptionist) has "awwwww"ed over how hard it is for me to hobble around on crutches.
So white it is.
And I had reconciled myself to white.
But then my podiatrist unwraps my foot and lets it have some air after five days of being wrapped in some kind of sticky white tape (that was wet when it first went on but dried and itched like a bitch) and secluded in cotton and supported by my fiberglass splint.
Here is what it looked like before the wrapping came off:


Here it is all swollen and green and with sticky white tape residue all over it:


Yes, I know, there was a collective "eewwwwww". I heard it. It's ok, I forgive you.

But here's the kicker.
My doctor comments, "hmmm, Kate, it looks a little swollen still...."
And I mention that not only is it swollen but it hurts like a bitch (only I didn't say bitch because he's all old and I would have offended him and you should never offend a podiatrist methinks on account of who knows what they are capable of? They look at feet all day, there is certainly something brewing under the surface) and that every time I have to walk around or anything I get horribly nauseous.
And he says, "Well, have you bumped it on anything or have you stayed off of it like we discussed last week?
Normally this is where I would have looked at my feet but he is all there by my feet so there was no avoiding the question.
So I got into this whole bit about how I was such a good girl who stayed off of her feet the whole weekend. No really, like I only got up to pee! But I had to go to work on Monday and maybe I thought I was a little better at using the crutches than I actually am. Well - no I definitely thought that and boy was I wrong because I am like the worst crutches user ever. And I kinda thought I could go up stairs on crutches and in retrospect that was probably a little presumptuous for someone who is already balanced challenged but even more so for someone who has never used crutches before save a few trips to the potty and a demorhal laced walk down the emergency room hallway.
This is where he interrupts me, "So you went up the stairs on your crutches?"
And I explain that I tried and failed miserably and by 'failed miserably' I of course mean that I fell down. And landed right on the broken part of my foot.
This is the part where he stops wrapping my foot with... pre-cast material and thinks for a moment. Then he looks at me and says we will have to have another xray to see if (my stupid vanity) has broken the bone even more than I had already horribly broken it.
And I felt a new kind of guilt.
The I disappointed my podiatrist kind of guilt.
Monday morning I get new x-rays. I won't get them on cd which sucks ass but maybe I can convince my podiatrist to email them to me. I think that they found me to be charming when I brought the camera in and told them I needed pictures for my blog. Or crazy.

Labels: Being Retarded, I'm a loser, My broken foot, my crazy life

So far new cute guy at the office (who we have an irrationally large crush on) has said he is going to sign my cast either:
Have a nice trip! See you next fall!
or
Kate - you should really take a break!

Any other catchy things ya'll can think of?
And for those of you who would actually like to sign my cast but live too far away, send me a sticker or something and I will paste it on there ;) A little British flag from The Girl? Palm tree sticker from Liz? Or whatever your fancy is :)
Need my address? Shoot me an email.

Lets keep it family friendly though since the kiddos will be wanting to know what everything means :)

Labels: At work, My broken foot

I've gotten a ton of emails asking how in the hell I managed to break my stupid foot.
It's really not a great story... I was in a super hurry (as I almost always am) and I was wearing these CUTE shoes. I can't find a picture of them but they are kind of like platforms.. except not hooker shoes... They have about a 2.5 inch platform on the back and about a two inch platform on the front. The entire base of the shoe has gorgeous purple and green flowers on it and then the top had just a red leather knot across the toes and an ankle buckle. They match perfectly with my wide leg green slacks.
Anyway, I wear these about every two weeks and I've only ever almost fell in them once before.
So, I am in a super hurry picking Amanda up from advanced Art on Thursday. The reason I am in a super hurry? Yeah, I was TOTALLY flirting with the new guy and the time got away from me and before I knew it, I was ten minutes late leaving. This is a big deal because I was coming back to have dinner with Rico Suave, his girlfriend and another co-worker before we went to a seminar. And that was a big deal because we were going to Olive Garden and I fucking love Olive Garden.
So after I get Amanda and am walking out of the school, Trin's teacher stops me to talk for a few minutes which puts me even further behind schedule. I tell her I am in a super hurry and can we talk next week. She says sure and then I walk out the front doors and as if to emphasize that I am in a super hurry, I walk very quickly.
For about ten steps.Then I eat shit.
I rolled my left ankle and since my cute shoes had zero ankle support, I could correct it. And since I was walking very fast, I fell down very fast. And hard. Landing on the outside of my foot before propelling forward and scraping the top of my other foot. My phone landed fifteen to twenty feet away in (thankfully) the grass.
I immediately stood up because that is what you do when you fall down so you can lessen the amount of people who see you. Right next to me there was stone pillar and I leaned up against that and told Amanda (who looked like she had just seen a ghost, I would later learn that I had just eaten shit in front of the boy she has a crush on) to go grab my phone while I composed myself.
It took me all of about 2.3 seconds to realize that I had absolutely broken my foot.
The dead give away would me the protruding bump in my skin and the rapid swelling.
I had Amanda help me get to the car which I am so glad I parked right in front of the school instead of in the parking lot thirty feet away. And as soon as I was in the car, it took everything I had not to cry. Instead, I started making phone calls.
1. Co-worker to find out where I could go with our insurance.
2. The Cake Lady to meet me at the gas station since I was almost out of gas and couldn't get out of the car.
3. The daycare to let them know I was dropping Amanda off and not coming in and that I might have Fairy pick up the girls.
4. Noah to let him know what was going on and set up how we would get the girls home.
5. Snow since she had inadvertently been called in the midst of the accident and was wondering what the hell was going on.
6. Fairy to let her know what was going on.
After the calls I was parked in the parking lot of the Urgent Care place trying to decide if I could walk in or not. The answer would be: not. I took one step on my broken foot and all the tears I had so gallantly held in came out. So there I am crying from pain and frustration and standing next to my van trying to figure out how the hell I will get my ass in there. I decided to google their number on my phone but my hands were shaking so badly that I couldn't even type it into my phone when this lady walks out. I call her and ask her to please go inside and get someone for me which she thankfully does.
I am wheeled directly from the car to the x-ray room and then three x-rays later, to the patient room. Before I am even out of the wheelchair, the doctor is there telling me to lay on my stomach because it is broken. They wrap it, give me some crutches and a copy of my x-rays on cd and then a shot of demorhal in the ass and send me into the waiting room. The whole thing couldn't have taken more than an hour.
I am going in this afternoon for my cast.

Labels: Amanda, Being Retarded, I'm a loser, My broken foot, my crazy life, self loathing

1. Pain.
Obviously it will hurt right? It's a bone in your body and it is broken. But let me tell you, I've had three kids - three - and breaking that tiny bone in my foot effing hurts. It hurts so much that I have been nauseous for five straight days.

2. Crutches suck ass.
Maybe when you were a little kid you envied another kid in your class that broke his leg because he got to cruise around on crutches and had a cast that he got signed and got a ton of attention. Guess what? You envied wrong. There is nothing, I repeat: nothing cool about crutches. You've went from walking around on two feet to walking around on one foot and two sticks. They're bulky, loud, wobbly, difficult to steer and basically do not even begin to compensate for the leg you were previously using.

3. Your other leg will hurt.
You'd think that your other leg would gladly step up and assume the role of its counterpart with pride and dignity. However, your other leg will only begrudgingly do the broken leg's duties. It will whine and bitch the whole time about how it isn't fair that the other leg just gets to sit around all day doing nothing while it now has to carry twice the weight. It will voice these concerns in the form of cramping up and making you feel like you have no other choice but to sit down right where you are immediately which happens to be on a curb which then makes standing back up next to impossible.

4. You can't carry ANYTHING.
Not a glass of water, a cup of coffee, papers from the printer, dirty laundry, dishes, socks! Nothing. I would rather have broken my arm and been turned into a one handed typer. When you break your foot, you lose the other leg to extra work and both hands to crutches and it sucks ass. And even if you want to just tough it out, every time you stand up to do something everyone who sees you in the hall asks why you are up because "didn't your doctor say to stay off of your foot for another week?" and then you have to proclaim that you "just want to go to the goddamned bathroom" but thank them for asking. This will seriously affect the flirting you are trying to do with the new guy.

5. On account of #4, you have to ask people to do everything for you.
Initially you will probably need help changing your clothes. Need a glass of water? Guess what? Someone else has to get it. Hungry? Someone else will have to carry your food from one place to the other. Your co-workers will start joking about how if they come into your office to ask you a question, they will receive a "honey-do" list.

6. You have to invent new ways to get in and out of the shower.
If you are like me, this will involve a precarious balancing act on the side of the bathtub. This is when you start to consider how important it is to bath daily and how feasible hiring a stunt double would be.

7. You have to start using the handicap accessibilities.
And handicap ramps are LONG. I made the mistake yesterday of thinking I could just hop up the stairs, there are only six of them after all. I cannot hop up the stairs. In fact this caused me to fall on the broken part of my foot and nearly made me throw up. However, the little motorcarts at Wally World are pretty rad and I have went shopping twice since this accident and both times I have been able to race around the store honking at those who get in my way ;)

8. You will stop needing to pee in the middle of the night.
You will stop because there is no way in hell anyone should attempt to operate crutches unless they are at full working capacity. And the amount of time and effort that goes into crutching from the bed to the potty is enough to completely wake you up and render sleeping again nearly impossible. For that reason alone you will hold it for a few extra hours. For this same reason, you will lay in bed until you are fully awake before getting up in the morning. Crutches should only be operated by someone fully awake and alert.

9. Everything takes twice as long.
Everything. Double the times in which you think you will be able to accomplish anything because you will need twice the amount of time. Fifteen minute showers are now thirty. Getting dressed in three minutes? You'll need at least six. Walking from the car to your office used take thirty seconds, now it takes three minutes. It's ridiculous. Welcome to your lesson in patience.

10. People in public do not help you.
No one opens a door for you or gets out of your way. No one picks up your crutch if you drop it on the ground. No one will offer to carry something for you or take your cart back into the store. People just don't. And I was one of those people. I always thought it would be embarrassing for the person on crutches to have you come over and help them. And I'm sure that it is. But let me tell you, if you see someone on crutches today, open the door for them. It makes their day that much easier.

Labels: At work, Being a Chic, Being Mommy, Being Retarded, community, Health, I'm a loser, My broken foot, my crazy life, My pathetic excuse for a love life, self loathing, unsolicited advice