I am an admitted control freak. I’ve said it before. Time and time again. I know this about myself. Yet, this little tidbit has resurfaced to smack me in the face. You think it would leave a little common sense behind with it, but nooo.
Last Friday, I had surgery on my foot. Nothing major, but a major pain in the you-know-what. My foot actually, that’s what.
When the orthopedic doctor told me back in December that I needed surgery, I looked at him and said “Well, I can’t do that right now. I don’t have time for something like this. I have small children.”
Yes, I am very rational like that. In my defense, my regular doctor thought I would be going to him and getting a cyst drained and out and about after the visit. I went from that to having a piece of bone cut off (I’ll spare you the rest of the details in case you are disgusted by blood and guts type stuff like me).
So, here I am all laid up for 2 weeks in a boot. No driving. Pain medication, which I absolutely hate. Not able to carry my three year old. Not able to run my children around to school and their activities. Eyes rolling back in your head wiped out from the meds.
I am not a good patient. I suck at it actually. I am usually the caregiver not receiver. So, this makes me cranky. My husband has been great. He has been holding the fort down, along with my parents. My mom cooked dinner for me twice. That was awesome. Food always tastes better when someone else makes it for you. It’s one of life’s simple pleasures.
I am trying to focus and write, but I am uncomfortable. The throbbing in my foot. The headache and haze from the meds. I need to go lay down. I do not feel in control of things. It’s adding edginess to me-to the situation. It would be easier if I could just sit back and relax. Enjoy being waited on. Enjoy catching up on bad TV and good books. But, it stresses me out instead. At least I know who I am.