Here Comes the Sun
Right, so the last two days have been much, much better. God decided to stop spitting on me, my shoulders are sore as hell, but I got an orthopedist to see me today.
It was probably one of the absolute best medical experiences I've had in my life. I showed up an hour early by mistake, but they saw me immediately anyway. The receptionists were genuinely friendly, the regular physical therapy patients all knew one another and the doctor and they were bandying about clever nicknames and cutting up. The docs were slapping me on the shoulders and giving hugs when it turned out that my break was in a location that didn't require a cast. Really, it felt more like a neighborhood pub than a clinic. Minus the booze. Although they're very generous with the Vicodin prescriptions.
Now I've got this incredibly over-engineered boot on my leg that is so awesome, I can almost get around without crutches, but definitely can manuever without having to dangle entirely.
And my dear friends have all been lovely and kind and supportive: T hauling my ass around town and offering tips to stay in shape while I mend; K sitting up in the emergency room for six hours on a Friday night with nary a complaint that might make me feel guilty (I did anyway); my roommate playing butler; Catherine coming over last night with her feminine intuition sussing out that what I need is Texas beer and chocolate ice cream and her sweet self; and bunches sending kind wishes by email.
And DC, I must say, has been incredibly friendly. The bus drivers make sure other passengers watch out for my foot, and without exception, somebody has jumped up to offer their seat the second I get on. Even if there are open seats, somebody in the seat nearest the front will get up so I don't have to shuffle on back. Strangers on the street change walking routes to open building doors for me, classmates carry things around, and generally the whole world has conspired to end the pity party.
So thanks, friends and strangers! Spirits high!
It was probably one of the absolute best medical experiences I've had in my life. I showed up an hour early by mistake, but they saw me immediately anyway. The receptionists were genuinely friendly, the regular physical therapy patients all knew one another and the doctor and they were bandying about clever nicknames and cutting up. The docs were slapping me on the shoulders and giving hugs when it turned out that my break was in a location that didn't require a cast. Really, it felt more like a neighborhood pub than a clinic. Minus the booze. Although they're very generous with the Vicodin prescriptions.
Now I've got this incredibly over-engineered boot on my leg that is so awesome, I can almost get around without crutches, but definitely can manuever without having to dangle entirely.
And my dear friends have all been lovely and kind and supportive: T hauling my ass around town and offering tips to stay in shape while I mend; K sitting up in the emergency room for six hours on a Friday night with nary a complaint that might make me feel guilty (I did anyway); my roommate playing butler; Catherine coming over last night with her feminine intuition sussing out that what I need is Texas beer and chocolate ice cream and her sweet self; and bunches sending kind wishes by email.
And DC, I must say, has been incredibly friendly. The bus drivers make sure other passengers watch out for my foot, and without exception, somebody has jumped up to offer their seat the second I get on. Even if there are open seats, somebody in the seat nearest the front will get up so I don't have to shuffle on back. Strangers on the street change walking routes to open building doors for me, classmates carry things around, and generally the whole world has conspired to end the pity party.
So thanks, friends and strangers! Spirits high!
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