Hey there!
I’ve been stuck at home for the better end of five weeks now, and I’m past the point of stir-crazy. Quick catch up: there was a meet cute between my foot and a sharp knife in late February, and this has been my life since.
My measurement of time is most exciting on a Friday - not just because it’s the start of Viv’s one-day weekend (hello grape harvest), but because it marks the day when I get to switch out the little foam pad that goes in my moon boot. The docs sent me home with several extras to replace as they get worn down, and now I’m down to the last one to switch into the boot this Friday. And THAT means only one more week until the boot comes off entirely. So, we’re almost there!*
(*This is very much my best friend Katy’s type of math. Another example: it’s Wednesday morning which means it’s basically Thursday which is so close to Friday that it’s basically the weekend - rejoice!)
Other favoured ways of watching the time pass: seeing my paint by number come together, getting through an old Nancy Drew mystery PC game, stabbing around on a cute little cross stitch, and getting through a few books: Jurassic Park is for some reason a comforting favourite of mine (this is the before-bed-book), and also This is Going to Hurt by Adam Kay, which was a fantastic recommendation from my sister (and is the during-the-day-book.) If you’re in need of a laugh and some occasional medical-based/dark humour, this one is it.
I guess I’m in the mood for it after my semi-comical foray into the hospital scene. I suppose not every time the knife slips from the counter it can be a near-miss; sometimes it lands pointy side down on the top of your foot and - swish - cuts the tendon to your big toe. Never ideal, but I’m grateful that there really hasn’t been any pain.
The doctor’s conclusion for surgery had me in an all-out meltdown, however. Silly little me, I’d never been under general anaesthesic before, and when I had clearly startled the doctor with my tearful reaction, the conversation went something like this:
Doc: I can see that’s not what you wanted to hear. You realise you don’t have to have the surgery, right? But it is what we recommend.
Me: No, I know, I’ll do it. I’m just scared.
Doc: What are you scared of?
Me: I’ve never been put under before, I just don’t know what’s going to happen.
Doc: Oh, you don’t have to be scared of that.
Me: Well, what should I be scared of?!
Doc: Uh, look. The drugs are great. It’s all going to be fine.
No kidding, he really did say that. He was probably thinking “Jesus Christ, it’s just your toe. I have surgery in an hour on someone’s spine.” And you know what? Fair.
Clearly I survived the procedure, but not without first telling Viv that she’ll have to call my parents in the event that I die, and could she please also pick up some ice cream for later? (Prepared for everything like the Girl Scout I am.)
Viv drove me home from day surgery five weeks ago and I’ve mostly been here ever since. Occasionally she’ll take us on an outing to the library, or maybe Aldi if we’re feeling wild. Another friend pops by to pick me up most Tuesdays to go for coffee. The chickens keep me company when they aren’t being shameless idiots destroying the garden - which gets them put back into chook prison AKA their coop. All in all, everything is fine, if not a little dull in comparison to “normal” life. Lucky I decided to sever the tendon after we’d already hiked 1002 kilometres.
I’m pretty tired of the interior of our house, so I thought I’d share these thoughts with whoever’s inbox this might end up in. I hope your days have been more exciting than mine, and that your coffee has been the perfect temperature, and that that thing that you really want to happen does indeed happen. By the way, do you have any lighthearted yet interesting podcasts you’d recommend? I usually throw them on in the background of my paint by numbering.
Take care until next time, Friends! And also take heed: if a knife is falling from above, jump like your toes depend on it.
Peace Out, Girl Scout.
Great post, Maddy.
I can clearly get your angst episode with the surgeon.
I’m sure this last week will be the most trying on your patience.
Hang in there!
Love, Pops.