Some days I worry about the amount of complaining I do. And some days I don’t give a damn. Some days I just want the carousel to stop so I can get off this elaborately painted horse called life. And then some days I want to just jump off the carousel, land where I land…get up, dust myself off and move along. Kind of like how kids do it. I might ask for an obligatory Barbie Band-Aid because who doesn’t love a cute Band-Aid?
This week began with moving offices. Actually that was last week but in the cluster that was the office arrangements between ours and another, my office was assigned to two interns. INTERNS. By Monday morning they had vacated into a new temporary spot. I spent Monday camped out in a colleagues office. My office is still not setup correctly and I suspect it will be a while before it is.
The upside: getting to see so many of my colleagues that I haven’t had the pleasure of interacting with over the last few years. Usually that’s followed by ‘wow you look…great’ which means: holy shit you’ve lost a lot of weight but it would be improper of me to ask if you have cancer’.
The downside: I found a garage closer to my office but also not on a hill like my previous garage. The walk from that garage killed me. The hills, the cobblestone sidewalk. Just awful on my hips. This garage…while it is flat surfaced seems like a long walk. I did so much walking between the main office suite and my office suite (which by the way my office is wayyyyyyy on the back…offices have their privileges I suppose) that my body physically could not hold up. My hip has been leaking by mid-day, soaking my pants and I’m pretty sure ruining at least one office chair. It’s ok though the chair sucks. I’m having it removed from my office. Lol.
Yesterday I was leaving the suite and my big boss was behind me “You look exhausted, like you’ve had enough”
Yep. Yes I have.
I want so badly to lead a normal life to not look at a walk to the bathroom as a death march. Because right now that’s exactly what it feels like. I walked so much this week I had cramps in my abdominal muscles and in my feet from tensing them up. It’s the worst.
People look at you so pathetic. They want to know, they want to ask. Some do. Yesterday an older man I’ve worked with off and on over the years saw me “What happened to YOU? You sure have slowed down!”
Uh. Thanks. “Botched hip replacement.” It wasn’t so botched but its easier to say that than explain the open wounds, the INDs the multiple infections, the wound vac etc etc. So. Botched surgery it is.
Last night I had trouble sleeping worrying about my appointment today. When I finally woke up I obsessed so much about what might happen that I was nauseous. My chest beat hard and fast out of my chest and all the calming breathing I could do didn’t help.
After checking my work mail, I grabbed my bag and left. I blared the music in my car to drown out the thoughts rolling around in my head. The only thoughts were bad. The only thoughts were how completely alone I feel lately. The only thoughts were how damaged I am.
At the hospital the Valet took my car (a whole 15 feet) and I hobbled inside. My body aches so badly from all the walking I’ve been doing lately. Ache isn’t even the right word. It’s this pain that radiates through every joint, every muscle. I admit…despite my own moratorium on xanax I took half of one just so I could stop the crying before I left the house. You’d have thought that would relax my muscles and calm me down. Nope
As soon as I got out of the car I realized my wound had begun leaking. On hospital days I do’t do a full dressing because why waste medical supplies they’re going to remove in an hour or so and toss out. That shits expensive.
Fortunately they took me back quickly and when I undressed the wet spot on my pants was only the size of my palm. I guess that’s not so bad.
Had one of my favorite nurses who complimented me before remembering that a while back I told them the better I look the worst I feel. Hahah.
It didn’t take long for my surgeon to come in. I was barely cleaned and measured.
The good part is that my wound is visibly healing and my ship skin is healing nicely Still a mess but it’s looking better. He suggested that waiting longer makes it a better opportunity for healthy skin that is unlikely to get re-infected when he sews me up.
The bad. And this was the real bad. My insurance still hasn’t come back and approved him for surgery. I started tearing up. “How long is this going to take????” He said it should be soon. He told me it was odd because in other states he was approved by my insurance and it was a quick process. Fucking Virginia.
He patted my shoulder as I was on the verge of tears and told me how well I’ve been doing and that when he ran track in HS his coach told his team to pretend the finish line wasn’t there. Don’t slow down when you see it, just keep going as fast as you can. My takeaway from his little story was that I need to stop whining and remember there IS in fact an end in sight and it’s not that far away.
I managed to wait until I left the hospital before I cried. I felt like crap from the meds. I drove home, logged in to work and despite not having much available sick leave, ended up taking the day off. I had so much to do. But it is what it is. I couldn’t telework knowing I would be crying and alternately falling asleep and I’m not going to cheat my employer when they’ve been generous to me.
So in a nutshell that’s it. No surgery. Not for a week. Not for 2 weeks maybe. And possibly not even 3 weeks. I want to crawl under a rock and never poke my head out again. The only thing keeping me from abject depression…oh who am I kidding, I am depressed. Shit. I just don’t know how much ore I can deal. I don’t know how much more my body can take. Or my mind. I have a ton of awesome friends. So many great friends but at the end of the day when I’m alone. Sleeping alone, grocery shopping alone, cleaning my house alone…all my friends have lives with kids, spouses or partners, families that keep them grounded.
In the end maybe I should be glad I’m not burdening anyone else with my life. Watching someone suffer when you can’t fix them is one of the worst feelings in the world.
Bedtime. Made it all the way to 9:45 on a Friday night. Congrats.