Totally forgot to mention
Nov. 6th, 2010 02:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sroniSo, about three weeks ago, I was in a corn maze. Just a twisty corn maze, not a scary one. But it’s corn maze. At night. We don’t have a flash light. Me being me, I fell. Of course. Because I’m accident prone as hell.
I then proceed to walk for upwards a mile to get OUT of the damn thing. Within five minutes of the fall, I’m trying really hard to not whimper with every step because of the OHMYGODPAIN! that is shooting from my foot to my hip. We get out of the maze, Squirreltail and I sit on a hay bale until our ride is ready to leave. I manage to get to the car — another long walk — without crying. Get dropped off at church, climb into Steve, our truck, Squirreltail takes me home. I look at my knee. Oh. Wow. It’s swollen and … purple?
Now, keep in mind, I’ve torn ligaments without any swelling. So when I swell, I pay attention to it. Bruising? Well, that happens all the time.
I took as much naproxxen as I was allowed to take. When Squirreltail left, I took that amount again. And then proceeded to stay awake all night long, crying from pain.
Just to give you comparison, when I dislocated my shoulder and popped it back into place, I saw fireworks, almost threw up and almost passed out, but I did not cry. I might complain about pain, but it actually does take a lot to make me cry, strictly from physical pain.
The next morning, I waited until nine thirty before calling Squirreltail to say that I think I needed to go to the doctor.
Another thing to keep in mind: I hate doctors. I hate going to doctors with a passion. Squirreltail has to force me to go, and I’ll come up with all kinds of excuses as to why I don’t need to. So me asking to go means there’s something wrong.
The doc looks over my knee, pronounces it to be a bone bruise, gives me amazing meds (Tramadol) and tells me to stay off of it for at least a week, and start gradually putting weight back on it once I’m no longer needing the meds. If I still need the meds in a week, come back in and get an x-ray (they don’t have x-rays on Saturday).
I’m still needing the meds by the time Friday rolls around again. In fact, I need a refill. So we go back in to do the X-ray. They tell me how to refill my meds (just call the pharmacy, the pharmacy will contact the doctor’s office, and the doc will say to refill it). They look at the x-ray, and tell me they have to send it off to be looked at and they’ll have my results by the following Friday.
Following Friday rolls around, we call and find out, and they say that it looks okay, but they came back with a note attached saying that if I was still hurting this badly after a month to do an MRI.
Best I can figure is, either it’s a shadowy spot that they’re just not sure on, or they’re covering their butts. Either way, I’d like to not do an MRI.
I had to refill the meds again. But I’m doing better this week: I still have to take two pills at a time, but I’m down from two pills every twelve hours to two pills every 24.
I’m also high as hell, and have been for the last three weeks. Apparently, at one point, I spent an hour explaining to Squirreltail that I’m a GeckoKitten, what exactly a GeckoKitten is, why I am one, why this is a good thing, and why he should be a GeckoKitten with me.
Yeah.
And that was one of my more lucid moments.
At another point, I woke up to my dad’s voice saying “Hello?” When I answered, he was trying to figure out why I sounded confused, when I’m the one who called him. Apparently, in a deep sleep, I managed to crutch across the room (my crutches were in a different position than I’d left them in), grab my phone, crutch back, lay back down, scroll through my phone, find my dad’s number, and call.
So. Yeah. I’m high. Which means that stories? NOT HAPPENING RIGHT NOW. I tried NaNo. Got less than 2,000 words into it. I’ll do NaNo in December. Or maybe February, since I’ll be going nuts with wedding stuff in December. But I’ll do it again, at a point where I’m not high as a flipping kite.
I then proceed to walk for upwards a mile to get OUT of the damn thing. Within five minutes of the fall, I’m trying really hard to not whimper with every step because of the OHMYGODPAIN! that is shooting from my foot to my hip. We get out of the maze, Squirreltail and I sit on a hay bale until our ride is ready to leave. I manage to get to the car — another long walk — without crying. Get dropped off at church, climb into Steve, our truck, Squirreltail takes me home. I look at my knee. Oh. Wow. It’s swollen and … purple?
Now, keep in mind, I’ve torn ligaments without any swelling. So when I swell, I pay attention to it. Bruising? Well, that happens all the time.
I took as much naproxxen as I was allowed to take. When Squirreltail left, I took that amount again. And then proceeded to stay awake all night long, crying from pain.
Just to give you comparison, when I dislocated my shoulder and popped it back into place, I saw fireworks, almost threw up and almost passed out, but I did not cry. I might complain about pain, but it actually does take a lot to make me cry, strictly from physical pain.
The next morning, I waited until nine thirty before calling Squirreltail to say that I think I needed to go to the doctor.
Another thing to keep in mind: I hate doctors. I hate going to doctors with a passion. Squirreltail has to force me to go, and I’ll come up with all kinds of excuses as to why I don’t need to. So me asking to go means there’s something wrong.
The doc looks over my knee, pronounces it to be a bone bruise, gives me amazing meds (Tramadol) and tells me to stay off of it for at least a week, and start gradually putting weight back on it once I’m no longer needing the meds. If I still need the meds in a week, come back in and get an x-ray (they don’t have x-rays on Saturday).
I’m still needing the meds by the time Friday rolls around again. In fact, I need a refill. So we go back in to do the X-ray. They tell me how to refill my meds (just call the pharmacy, the pharmacy will contact the doctor’s office, and the doc will say to refill it). They look at the x-ray, and tell me they have to send it off to be looked at and they’ll have my results by the following Friday.
Following Friday rolls around, we call and find out, and they say that it looks okay, but they came back with a note attached saying that if I was still hurting this badly after a month to do an MRI.
Best I can figure is, either it’s a shadowy spot that they’re just not sure on, or they’re covering their butts. Either way, I’d like to not do an MRI.
I had to refill the meds again. But I’m doing better this week: I still have to take two pills at a time, but I’m down from two pills every twelve hours to two pills every 24.
I’m also high as hell, and have been for the last three weeks. Apparently, at one point, I spent an hour explaining to Squirreltail that I’m a GeckoKitten, what exactly a GeckoKitten is, why I am one, why this is a good thing, and why he should be a GeckoKitten with me.
Yeah.
And that was one of my more lucid moments.
At another point, I woke up to my dad’s voice saying “Hello?” When I answered, he was trying to figure out why I sounded confused, when I’m the one who called him. Apparently, in a deep sleep, I managed to crutch across the room (my crutches were in a different position than I’d left them in), grab my phone, crutch back, lay back down, scroll through my phone, find my dad’s number, and call.
So. Yeah. I’m high. Which means that stories? NOT HAPPENING RIGHT NOW. I tried NaNo. Got less than 2,000 words into it. I’ll do NaNo in December. Or maybe February, since I’ll be going nuts with wedding stuff in December. But I’ll do it again, at a point where I’m not high as a flipping kite.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2010-11-06 08:38 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-11-06 08:43 am (UTC)I've said a few other things here and there, that people will ask about, and I'll look over as little as five minutes later and say, "Yeah. No clue what I was trying to say."
One of the most interesting ones was, "One if by land, two if by sea, but what if someone forgot the code? No one expects banana flinging marsupials to gate crash the party, after all." I have no clue where it came from, what I was saying, or what my point was.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-11-06 09:54 am (UTC)Seriously, I know what you're talking about -- I've had a few times of complete exhaustion where I've had conversations like that, let alone medications.
By the way, it's a little know fact that banana flinging marsupials were largely responsible for defeating the British at the battle of Lexington and Concord.