Well, I made it. That's five years straight of Nablopomo. Sometimes I even impress myself, so I can't imagine how you must feel... SUPER impressed probably.
Tonight one of the girls I "chaperoned" on a trip to California came for a visit and we took the boys and me to see some ambulances and get a tour from the guy who showed up at my house when we called 911 on the day Nablopomo started. Confused? I'll explain.
Wait. First a picture.
That's Cathleen. I chaperoned for Youth For Christ's California Breakaway in 2002. Cathleen was in the group of 7 girls I was uhhhh... in charge? of. I like to think I was in charge, but I probably wasn't. It didn't matter who was in charge though because I had the BEST group of girls EVER. Oh man. We had so much fun. Disney and Sea World and Universal Studios and Six Flags and lots of malls. And some beaches. And then some more malls. But mostly just hanging out with the girls. SO fun. Anyways, a few years ago Facebook worked it's magic and the rest is history.
Here's another picture.
That guy in between Ben and Sam is one of the EMS people who showed up when Glen called 911 because we were pretty sure we couldn't get me to the hospital in our van the morning I broke my ankle. He rode with me in the ambulance, and asked me what my kids dressed up as for Halloween in an effort to distract me from my pain. It didn't work. So he told me a story about the day he got the flu shot and had to do CPR with his sore arm, and his other arm obviously, for 45 minutes. That did the job and got me calmed down.
The next day I was in the hospital in Regina, and of course I posted about it on Facebook, and Cathleen lives in Regina so she came to see me. She's an EMT. And we were laughing about this guy trying to calm me down in the ambulance. And then I told her the story of the flu shot, and what do you know? The same thing happened to one of her friends who is an EMT in Yorkton, which of course would be way too big of a coincidence so we knew her friend was my own distracting EMT.
And she was in town visiting him this weekend, so they took us for a tour of the ambulance place and let the boys turn on the lights and check out the inside of the ambulances. What a nice coincidence.
Isn't how life works out nifty sometimes?
Oh yeah. And Cathleen was working the 911 call center that day. She wasn't the person who picked up, but she heard the call. She assures me that the sound of me screaming in the background was "cute". She also said she had fun Christmas shopping with the family at Walmart tonight, so I'm not sure I can take her word for it. I want a recording. Bad.
I've been following this blog for a while now. Ever since Kristian posted this video for his wife Rachel's birthday on YouTube:
I'm watching Sister Wives. I'd have a harder time confessing this if I didn't know lots of you are watching it too. I can't help myself. It's fascinating.
And do you know what? I don't think polygamy be illegal. I think people should be allowed to choose who they want to marry, and even how many people they want to marry. Don't get me wrong. I think it's CRAZY. I even think it's wrong. But I don't think it should be illegal. Just like I don't think homosexual marriage should be illegal.
The thing is, I don't want anyone to tell me what to believe. I would never tolerate someone telling me that they believe my lifestyle is wrong and that I'm not allowed to make my own choices. I'm an adult. Aside from obviously criminal activities, it's not the government's job to make moral choices for me.
So why is it the government's job to make moral decisions for other people who believe differently than I do? What I see on Sister Wives isn't criminal. The choices they are making for their family are not choices I agree with, but even I can see that their family is not so different from mine. They love their children, they love their god, and they have thoughtfully made conscious choices for their family based on what they believe is good and right. That's a lot more than a lot of people who live "normal" lifestyles can say for themselves.
Oh, I know there are examples of people who think they are doing what is good and right (or at least they say that's why they're doing things) who are pure evil. I'm thinking spefically of Warren Jeffs right now, but there are examples of people like him in every walk of life everywhere in the world. I know that he would argue he isn't doing anything wrong either, and that he should be allowed to make his own choices too. And some people could argue it's a slippery slope... But the big difference that I see is that he (and others like him) is making choices that harm other people, children especially. And the government absolutely should step in to protect others from his choices.
Anyways. That got longer than I planned...
They hardly lost any weight this episode. Poor sister wives. I know how that feels. But I don't know how it feels to have my choices taken away from me and my lifestyle condemned by the government. I don't think that's right. (Just like I don't think it's right that you work and work and watch what you eat and only lose 4 lbs. Brutal.)
What do you think?
Time for another song 30 day challenge song.
Day 16: A song you used to love, but now you hate.
I don't think there are any songs I used to love and actually hate now, but I can sure tell you one that I loved when it first came out and am really sick of now...
People. I have a question for you.
How would you feel about your mother-in-law folding your panties? Folding. Your panties.
How about if you had told her to leave the laundry alone specifically because you didn't want her even seeing your panties, much less touching them and fricking folding them?
And it's not as if I can't fold laundry. Glen brings it to me, and I fold it. Easy. Or it would be if the MIL didn't ignore what we tell her and rush in there and get it before we can.
She doesn't listen to a word Glen or I say. She's one of those people who would tell you, "No thank you, I'm fine," if you offered her some pie and she really wanted some, but she doesn't want to put you to any trouble. So she thinks we're doing that too. All the time. It doesn't matter how many times we tell her not to do something, she thinks we're lying and we just don't want her to go to any trouble. Add this to the fact that the woman feels that she literally MUST work every single waking moment of every single day and you have yourself a person who will not take no for an answer.
I am so ready for her to leave. I don't care if we all starve, the house turns into a sty, and I have to beat the children with my crutches to get them to listen to me. (Hannah runs from me if she doesn't want to go where I want her to go. She loves that I can't pick her up and take her places. Two-year-olds are really hard to manage when you can't just grab them.)
It doesn't matter. I don't care. She. MUST. Leave.
I almost forgot to post. I had the lights out and everything, and I couldn't sleep, so I looked at the clock to see what time it was, and... Ahhhh!
So... What to post? Raise your hand if you think this is my lamest NaBloPoMo ever? *raises hand*
It'll have to be another Thirty Day Song Challenge. Sorry.
Day 15: A song that describes you.
You would think that being this bored would lead to fantastically creative posts. I have so much time on my hands, I should be able to come up with something better than this...
Day 14: A song no one would expect you to love.
Glen's sick now.
Sam got sick the night after I did, so it looks like Taco Time wasn't the culprit. I still won't be eating it again for a loooooong time though.
So, since neither of us are in any shape to make or even go and get supper for the family, I ordered Pizza Hut tonight. Delivery. We never get delivery because it takes way too long. They were 45 minutes late. Which wouldn't have bothered me as much if I hadn't called at 4pm to place a timed order for 6:15pm and we got our food three hours later at 7pm. So, obviously if you know anything at all about me, I called to complain.
Free supper. I'm glad I decided to get lots so no one has to make lunch for tomorrow.
That's how I'd describe Twilight: Breaking Dawn. If I'd never read the books I don't think I could have made it through, but since I have, and since (embarrassing confession) I really liked the books, I had a pretty good time at the movies tonight. I'd even say I got my money's worth.
It helped that parts of the movie that were meant to be dramatic and stirring could be cut and pasted unedited into a comedy, and people would laugh instead of stare transfixed by the heartrending story being played out onscreen. For real. I snorted. And not when I was supposed to.
Good times. Not as exciting as last time, but still, goooooooood times.
Oh, and one more thing. I can't help it people. I'm still on team Edward. I think in large part because tonight I finally figured out who Jacob reminds me of:
Don't see it? How 'bout now?
Still not? All right, then how about... Now?
Really? Whatever. I see it. Which makes team Jacob a complete impossibility for me. Not because looking like my cousin Jack makes him ugly or anything, but just because it makes him look like... My cousin. Jack.
Don't worry. There won't be any pictures with this post. Let's not even think about what they'd look like if I posted pictures to sum up the last 12 hours or so...
Last night when we got into town we stopped to pick up fast food because Mom thought we were an coming today and had nothing ready for supper. Glen and the kids got McDonald's. I wish I'd got McDonald's. (That's probably the first and only time I will ever say that.) I got Taco Time. BIG mistake.
When my ankle hurts a lot it makes me sort of nauseated, so when I went to bed that night that's what I assumed was causing me to feel so icky. Wrong. At around six in the morning I started throwing up and from then on it's just a blur of crutching back and forth to the bathroom and sitting on the toilet with a pot in my lap.
I cannot see a time when I'll be ready to risk putting a little spice in my life again anytime soon. What a brutal day.
Okay. This post is for people like Ang and Carrie who like things like staples and stitches and blood. It is not for people like Melissa who freak out over a few bruises and a bloody bandage. So don't scroll down unless you are the type of person who thinks pulling staples out of someone's leg would be fun. I wouldn't look either, but I had to get used to it because I have to clean it and put a sock on over top of it. The first time I accidentally saw it I burst into tears. Ang laughed and took this picture:
This is what it looks like now that staples are out. Icky. Sam hates it and wants me to keep it covered up. I wonder what the scar will look like...
Check. It. Out.
That's my ankle. And I took it to see the surgeon today. And he said I don't need a cast if I promise that I won't put any weight on it till I see him in a month.
Obviously, I promised.
You have no idea how happy I am right now. Aside from the obvious stuck in bed and unable to do anything part, the cast was the part I was most dreading. Now, tomorrow I can take off that bandage and have a bath. And post a gruesome picture(s) of the incision. (Melissa, consider yourself warned. I'll be sure to leave a big space so you have to scroll down to see it in case you accidentally click your way onto my site.)
Next time I break my ankle I'm totally breaking it bad enough that it needs screws and a plate to hold it together so I don't have to have a cast. Score!
Sometimes it's easy to feel down with 12 weeks of recovery in front of me, stuck in my bed with my ankle throbbing all day, but some things make it hard.
It's almost midnight! And by the time I post this it probably will be. Whoops.
So let's just quickly look at another 30 day song challenge...
Day 12: A Song From a Band You Hate
Well, that's an easy one. Just go on YouTube and put "heavy metal" in the search box and the bands that pop up? I hate them. I'm not even going to post one because I don't want that trash on my site.
There. That was fast.
It's REALLY hard to write blog posts when Ang is here. We're watching Being Erica. Ang is knitting me a sock for my cast foot so my toes don't get cold. I dug out the cross stitch I've been working on for the last ten years or so that I got at a Braun family Christmas gift exchange. Ang ate too many chips today, I ate just the right amount, but probably too much pumpkin loaf from Melissa. Glen's mom went home, I sent her a bouquet of flowers as a thank you. (For going home. lol. KIDDING!)
Awe man. She just put the knitting aside because it's frustrating her.
So that's about it. Ang is staying till Tuesday, which is awesome because then she'll get to see the boys do taikwondo tomorrow. On Wednesday it's off to Regina to get a new cast. I'm hoping it won't be a real cast. And on Thursday we go to Martensville for the weekend. I'm getting my hair done and going to see the new Twilight movie.
There. Lamest post ever. I hate newsy posts. I'm really tempted to backspace the whole thing, but I'm gonna quick post it before I do.
So, in lieu times two...
I'm skipping by Day 10: A Song That Makes You Fall Asleep (I'll tell you why later.)
And I present you with Day 11: A Song From Your Favourite Band. This one was a toughy because I don't usually listen to "bands". I like certain singers and songs, but honestly, I couldn't think of a single band that I've ever liked more than any other...
Till suddenly, I remembered. There was this one band that I really loved with all my heart way back in high school and still get excited about if I happen to be somewhere they show up to play.
Ang is here.
So, in lieu of a real post I give you the return of Thirty Day Thursdays.
Day Nine: A Song You Can Dance To... And boy did I. I don't think anyone in our house actually watched the show, but I always made sure to catch the opening credits.
First of all, here's a picture for Carrie of what my toes look like when I get out of bed long enough to go to the bathroom. They're a little purpler in real life. It's disturbing. How come they do that? Why does the blood go to one side and not the other? I should google it. I've got the time.
After I stood long enough to take this picture my leg felt like maybe all the blood inside it was going to finally actually cause my skin to split and I just couldn't resist checking...
So there it is. Ang wanted to see it, so I figured just in case she doesn't make it here this weekend I should take a picture for her. All that stuff that looks like dirt are bruises. They look a lot worse without a flash lighting up my leg, but I couldn't get a better picture, so if Ang wants to see all the glorious shades of green and brown and purple she'll just have to come. No wonder my whole leg hurts.
If you click on the pictures to biggify them (I don't recomend it though, my leg is getting pretty hairy) you can even see one staple peaking out at the top of the gauze that I was way too chicken to peak under. Plus it's kind of stuck down. Icky. Bruises fascinate me. Incisions freak the crap out of me, and this one goes the whole length of that bandage. I am going to have a pretty cool scar.
Here's the other side. Not so bad, just a little bruised and swollen, but most of the really bad stuff happened on the other side.
Ahhhhhhh... Oh man that felt gooooooooood. I might unwrap it again tonight for a bit. Don't tell my doctor. (I am going to hate getting a real cast next week.)
Things are still pretty boring over here. So, since all I've got talk about is how the toes on my broken foot are a totally different colour than the toes on my normal foot, I'm just going to send all of you over to Melissa's blog. Her day was super exciting and I'm hoping she'll post about it. So head over there to wait with me for it.
Don't let us down Melissa!
Yesterday my doctor told me I should expect that the swelling in my ankle won't go down any time soon. He said it could easily be two weeks.
TWO WEEKS till I can be upright longer than a few minutes? Two weeks till crtuching my way to the bathroom isn't almost too much for me.
It's only TUESDAY.
And season four of the show I was watching is dumb.
So I sent Glen to the store to buy the kids (me) a Wii for Christmas (to take me through the next few weeks). I hope it helps. Because this is the longest week ever. And it's only TUESDAY.
I finished all the episodes of Community on Netflix. (Doggone it. I wish there were more. I love that show.) So this is what I've been watching all day:
I just wrote and deleted a post about how things have gone from bad to worse in the last few hours. It started getting kind of long, but this is the gist of it: I am going insane trapped up in my room on my back with my MIL (mother-in-law) presiding over the chaos downstairs. Hannah keeps escaping and hiding in my room and crying when Glen's mom comes to get her. If this frickin' swelling would just give me a break already so I could at least sit up for a while... I want this to be over.
I know, I know... I said I wouldn't talk about my ankle, but I seriously can't think about anything else right now. The worst thing is that if I put my foot down for much longer than ten seconds it feels like it's going to explode. It's so swollen and sore and I can't take any anti-inflammatories and my cast is too thick for ice to do any good. Did you know anti-inflammatories inhibit bone growth? Me neither. Frick. Frick frickin frick.
And I know we women like to tell you men that there is nothing more painful than having a baby, but this has taught me that there is always a new definition for 10/10 on the pain scale. I expect I will feel better in a few days, but right now I swear I can feel every staple pulling at my skin. I need the swelling to go down. And I need these pain meds to work long enough to get me to the next dose instead of konking out an hour or two before I can take them again.
I wish I could go back to the hospital. Because here at home even going to the washroom is a nightmare. I want to go back to where there is an adjustable bed, and a little table that swings over my lap, and nurses shooting narcotics into my IV line, and bedpans. Seriously. I'm thinking back with fond memories of a bedpan. Pathetic. This is brutal.
I have never felt more miserable. And tomorrow Glen's mom gets here.
What a waste of a week.
Honestly, who of you would think it would take FOUR DAYS to fix a broken ankle? Because I wouldn't have thought that. I would have thought that it would be fixed the same day it was broken.
Of course, I also would have thought that you would be given some serious pain killers before someone straightened a broken ankle twisted more than forty five degrees in the wrong direction, but that shows what I know. Not much.
I also didn't know how great my friends are. I have some pretty great friends. And my poor husband was also great... Crawling along on the ground in front of me holding my cast up so it wouldn't pull on my messed up bones while I crutched my way to the washroom or up the stairs or where ever.
Holy crap. My knee just spasmed. I scared the daylights out of Glen, who came running to see what new horrible injury I'd just given myself.
My poor hip and knee took a lot of abuse the last few days lugging around the retarded cast that they made me in Yorkton. At some points they hurt as bad as the break did. Aside from being ridiculously heavy, that cast was put on in such a stupid way that the nurses had to pry it open (after they FINALLY got the doctor's permission) in the middle of the night on Wednesday because it was way too tight. Of course, that left my bones able to shift around freely the rest of the night and all of Thursday morning, which wasn't really any better... Although it did make my toes a little less numb and a little less blue.
Oh man, so many terrible memories. And I've only mentioned about half of them. I could go on, but I'm even boring myself, so I'm pretty sure I lost all but the most loyal of you somewhere in the middle of the second post. I promise tomorrow to write something totally unrelated to my stupid broken ankle.
(I still can't believe I started this week with a perfectly good one, and now I'm sitting here looking at around 12 weeks in a cast. Blah. That's THREE MONTHS! I could grow a third of a baby in that time. My house is going to be a MESS. And I was going to finish painting my kitchen this week so it would be all nice for Ang's visit on the long weekend. LAME. This is lame. I am lame.)
And this is what happened Thursday...
That morning one of the nurses told me that it wasn't uncommon for patients to wait three days for surgery. I lost it a little then. I could MAYBE have waited patiently if my pain had been anywhere close to under control, but it wasn't. And all they kept doing was giving me more morphine. I had no idea a morning could last that long. Those poor nurses. I was a sobbing maniac and there was nothing they could do to help me.
FINALLY at around 1pm the doctor gave the nurses permission to give me hydromorph which is ten times stronger than morphine. Peace. That's what hydromorph means. I could have waited for days on that stuff. It turned out I only waited about ten minutes after that though. I was just finally falling asleep when the porter came for me. Of course.
So I had my surgery, and got to experience again that very odd feeling of being wide awake and talking in one room and two seconds later waking up in a whole new room with a whole new cast and all my bones put back into place and screwed together.
Then there were a few moments of intense agony while I waited for an injection to take effect, and then another injection, and then blessed relief, and some people watching in recovery. What a fun place. I could have stayed there longer. But all too soon it was back upstairs to my room and lots more fantastic pain killers. (Which weren't nearly so necessary now that my bones weren't in the wrong place and constantly shifting around in spite of the crap cast that the people in Yorkton put on me after turning my foot around to face forward again without warning me. That was a long sentence, but they made me suffer some long hours in agony.) I was also treated to some visitors and great nurses and some Taco Time, turning me back into the rational Becky who hadn't been seen since sometime on Wednesday afternoon.
And that was Thursday.
For those who are curious and want more details about what happened Wednesday, besides me writing the title of this post, read on...
So, on this day, we got up at 5:30 and drove to Regina for an 8:30 appointment with an orthopedic surgeon who told me "I'll see you up in surgery in a couple hours." He also told me once the surgery was done "... in a couple hours," I'd be able to go home the same day. I didn't see him again for much longer than a couple hours, and he was wearing street clothes, not scrubs, when I did.
So... All day I waited on a stretcher in day surgery... In pain because I wasn't allowed to take any pain meds since my surgery would just be "... in a couple hours." The nurses kept thinking I'd be next since I'd been there the longest, and because that's what I'd been told by the doctor, but I wasn't next. By the end of the day I was crying. They were finally allowed to give me some morphine at around supper time when they admitted me to the ortho ward, but it didn't work nearly as well as the pills I had been taking the day before. Of course, I couldn't take anything by mouth anyways, in addition to the fact that new drugs would be coming after the surgery. Which, they told me, would absolutely happen in the early evening. By 11:30 that night, I was finally allowed to eat and drink, once it was confirmed by the OR that after all I wouldn't be going for surgery that day. So I quickly drank and ate as much as I could in half an hour to prepare for the next day's surgery. It was a loooooooong night. I won't go into details, but I hate morphine. It's total crap.
And that was Wednesday.
Four months. To the day! Yikes. Poor lonely blog.
Let's start out the way we ended. With a super fun photo summing up today's big events.
Ang would have liked it if I'd taken a photo of my ankle turned in a way that only Gumby's ankle should turn, and honestly, it DID occur to me... But even crazy-camera Becky has her limits.
On the upside, this will probably leave me LOTS of time for NaBloPoMo.