I wish that I could take a picture of the lovely new boot that I acquired today, but I dropped my camera and broke it as I was attempting to hobble into my home last night after a day of limping around the Stockton Childrens Museum.
The boot is very tall...tall boots are in vogue right now, right? And gray. With three velrco straps. Oh, and an inflater to ensure the perect fit. And I'm sure that it's worth a lot of money or at least my insurance company will say it is, once I get the bill for it next month.
I have tendonitis. In my anterior tibialisis. Which is right around my ankle; a very unusual place to get tendonitis, or so says the orthopedic physican who examined my leg today.
"You are a special one," he told me. "Uhhh, thank you?" I replied. Then: "Now quit charming me and please fill the syringe with cortisone right now and make this excrutiating pain, which is now radiating up to my knee and causing me to lose a lot of money because I can't stand/walk/ hardly breath - go away." "Ahhhhhh, welllllll, no," he said, "Too risky for that tendon. Strange place for tendonitis. Are you a hurdler?" "No, I'm a walker," I replied. "I only hurdle when my dog pukes in the house and I need to jump over the mess." "Special, indeed," he said.
No injection for me. Instead, I have the god-awful ski boot, an appointment for a MRI and a referal for several weeks worth of physical therapy. At least he gave me some decent painkillers. Anything rated for "severe" pain is bound to be good, right?
Hard to believe that today I am supposed to be on a plane, bound for Florida with S and his kids, to spend six days at Disney. At least I now have a legitimate reason for not going. And a doctor's note too.
Truth be told, there were a number of reasons that I couldn't go, notwithstanding the fact that S and I broke up. First, there was the nasty flu bug that ripped my vocal cords out. Then, the hours of work that I missed since you actually have to have a "working" voice to do my job. And let's not forget the camera incident...who goes to Disney without a camera? Now this - the inability to walk more than ten steps without falling to my knees and begging God for mercy.
On a happier note, my stepmom went along with the original plan to take B for two nights, despite the cancelled Disney trip, thus giving me a much needed break from my loooooonnnnggggg stint of single parenting. And the Childrens Museum was quite a hit. That place is one redeeming quality of god-awful Stockton. B had a grand time, documented by my now defunct Olympus and is now talking my stepmom into hours of television time, lots of spending in the toy aisle and nights out for pizza.
So for my "night off", I popped in a Netflix without consulting the title. "Nights In Rodanthe." I'm going to say-god awful for the third time in this post. I must have put the movie in my queue for Mom because no way would I waste two precious child free hours on that train wreck. Especially on the heels of a break-up. Note to self: read reviews before placing movies in queue and certainly consult the title of selected DVD before committing two hours of your life to mindless Hollywood crap.
My life kinda resembles The Twilight Zone this week. And now I get to tromp around in a ski boot and hope that I get lots and lots of sympathy.