Hello, Fringelings! I hope all are well. I’ve been sniveling so it seemed prudent to remain quiet. Not much to say, really. I’m lying low, pain, a gala of self-pity. In order to keep myself occupied, I’ve been researching college options for Nerd Child. A fun and exciting time, right? I have to say, after 8000 rounds of school admissions for each child at every school entry point, this isn’t as much fun as it used to be. Honestly, this whole multiple fractures gig is quite a nuisance. Next time I’m going to opt for door number 2, maybe a 72 hour stomach virus.
Nope, haven’t done any writing, but the longer my arm is casted, the more my ideas for that short story are being pushed aside in favor of horror stories that involve rotting flesh. Move over, Stephen King, Mrs Fringe has owies just begging to be fictionalized.
Two days ago I thought hey, I’m doing a little better, I think I’ve turned a corner. Yesterday I had to go back to the orthopedist to be checked. Hah! Sure I’m doing better if I don’t move, but by the time I returned home from a couple of hours of new X-rays, limping down hospital corridors, and being asked if “this hurts” I was ready to forcibly remove the jawfish from his tunnel and claim his residence. Someone do a water change once in a while, ok? In any case, the ortho now wants me to start non weight bearing physical and occupational therapy. I have no clue what this will entail, but if it’s going to put me further along the path to recovery, I’m all for it. So I thought, until I got a phone call from the PT office to set up an appointment.
I know I’m cranky, and I know not everyone has a strict budget, but really, wtf? I’m moving slow, no matter what I have to get the girl to and from school, and I’m having to take cabs because going up and down the subway steps is still out of the question. The coordinator from the ortho’s office assured me she would let them know I needed PT and OT scheduled together.
The PT clinic has other ideas. I told the woman clearly, I have a budget and time constraints, so no, I can’t schedule PT and OT for different days, leaving me to get back and forth across town every day of the week–not to mention an additional co-pay every time I go. She offered me a PT appointment for this morning. Fine, let’s get this started. Then she offered me an OT appointment for Thursday, exactly when I have to pick Art Child up from school. No can do. She recommended I hire someone to take Art Child back and forth from school for the duration of my recovery. If I were a different sort of woman, I’d have been flabbergasted. Being me, I was pissed. I was watching the tank while I was on the phone, and the jawfish must have heard my thoughts, because he dove back into his hole and spit sand at me from the entryway. From a fresh perspective this morning, it’s a good thing I was still in a daze of pain from the morning’s appointments when she called, or I likely would have said some things that would have led to me needing to find a different clinic.
It occurs to me I don’t own sneakers that are real umm, sneakers. Hopefully, since I won’t be running or doing anything with weights, or, yanno, standing, barefoot will be ok.
I think I’ll just keep losing myself in watching the reef.