My Cross To Bear

Wow, today was not a good day. I went to work again today to get some things taken care of in the office. I continued to collect points in my game too! (Joke from the end of last post) Of course my wife and I are still having a bit of a spat about me driving as well. I told her the day after I ruptured that the only way I would want to go to work is if my boss came here to my home to pick me up. Well when the need came up for me to go to work, my boss informed me that he was taking the bus for another two weeks and the only other co-workers that could give me a ride without going out of their way are women, and I don’t even want to get into that argument. With all that was going on I figured I would drive back and forth to work and home, nowhere else. For one reason or another my wife views me driving with my left foot in the same light as she would view someone who would fill up at a gas station while smoking a cigarette and arch wielding their door joints.

                Well all of this steam came to a head when my wife called me and notified me that she was bringing my daughter to me so she could attend a business dinner with her co-worker and company VP’s. I don’t work at a daycare or anything, all this took place after business hours, at 530pm. Well we had been arguing the same way any sensible couple argues now-a-days….through text message! Well by the time she made it to my job, I was p!ssed. So when I went down stairs to get my daughter, I was trying to do everything in my power to not say anything to her and start arguing in the towers lobby. So when I got off the elevator she gave me this dirty look and I almost said something. But one of us had to be the bigger person, and you never refer to a woman and definitely not your wife, as the bigger ANYTHING. So I tried my best to hurry and grab my daughter and get back upstairs and in the process of doing so, one of the wing nuts on the crutches got caught in my pants pocket in the middle of forward swing, and I all of a sudden I was left with an option, not a decision, an option. It was already decided that I was going down, my option was exactly how I wanted to go down.

         I wanted to go ahead and do the belly flop right on the floor but 3 things stopped me…1- I could not let my wife see me fall right in front of her while we are arguing, 2- I was too close to the odd and short double glass swinging door type security gate my building installed by the elevators and 3- Marble floors do not create nearly the same splash that water does. Now for my first issue; me falling in front of her would have given her a great cue to say “I told you that you should not leave the house”. As far as falling toward the security gate, I probably would have decapitated myself on the doors or otherwise placed myself in a position that would have still gotten my picture on rotten.com.  I believe the third issue needs no explication.

    After placing my options under intense review, I decided to release my limpy sticks because they were moving me forward towards the security gate…..at a very bad angel, and attempted to just catch myself by hopping on my good foot. That plan worked great, but space became an issue real quick. There are motion censored posts that protrude from the security gate that  come out about 3 feet from the glass gate itself, and my first hop got me dangerously close to it but my momentum was still carrying me forward. Then without really thinking about my next move (my slow motion remote control was not functioning) I stuck out my withered leg to save myself. That move did not go well…..at all. At this point in time, my slow motion remote seemed to working to its fullest capacity.

                As my bad foot mad contact with the floor it slid forward slightly (because the floor is marble and I had a dress sock covering my whole bandage) and then it stopped my forward motion. I felt nothing at all for a good…half a second or so. But soon thereafter, my brain and nervous system were synced up again after the horrific scare, then I felt a very tense feeling in my Achilles area. I stood there for a second waiting for that second wave of pain and waiting for the blood to start rushing out of the bandage. To my surprise, that second rush of pain did not come and neither did the blood from my tendon ripping apart from its stitches and the stitches on my skin ripping apart. It throbbed a little for a moment, and that throb stayed there, but no real pain.  My wife of course asked if I hurt myself and proceeded to give me the, “I told you so” speech. I then told her that what just happened could have easily happened at home, and I walked into the elevator with my daughter.

                As I stood in the elevator, my daughter set her eyes on me and they did not move. She was looking for the smallest indication that I was hurt before she flipped out.  I squeezed my eyes together as tight as I could to stop the mental pain of thinking about having to go get my Achilles reattached after less than a week. But I did not have much time to do so because when I squeezed my eyes like that my daughter flipped out and started screaming my name asking if I was okay.  I smiled and said yes, and she chilled out pretty quick. Once I got to my desk I could not shake the thought that I might have done some damage, so I took of my ace bandage to see if I could see some blood or any other signs. I still had a sterile cotton type thing wrapped around my leg so I could not see my actual scar (which I am really nervous about seeing). I tried the Thompsons test, but my foot was already angled from the brace and I tried feeling it and flexing it to see if it seemed “loose” but nothing I did gave me a clear indication that I was good to go.

         So to gain peace of mind, I had to text my wife and ask if she could provide me with my doctor’s home number. She then calls me and asks me if I am okay, and why I am making her out to be the bad guy etc. So to avoid further conflict, I just asked again for the number and she gave it to me and I called the doctor and explained the situation. I told him what I did and I also told him that I had not taken my pain meds all day and the pain I felt from the incident was not that bad at all, it was just a little sore. He assured me that with the stitching material and stitching pattern he used that I would have a lot more pain than I had at the time if I would have torn through them. He will still check it out when we meet on Friday but as for now my mind is eased.

Our argument about me driving is still not resolved, but….my wife  did say one sentence to me when I got home though. She asked if I would like her to make me something to eat before she goes to sleep. Ummm, I don’t care if you are the Pope, I am not letting you make me any food if you have ill feelings toward me, nope, not happening. So I politely declined and she went off to bed. I then went upstairs to get my own food. My 4 course meal consisted of 4 peanut butter sandwiches (that I carried down to my area in a Wal-Mart bag), 2 bags of Doritos (that I opened a little to let the air out and stuffed in my pockets), and a jar of apple sauce (no spoon either- I tossed the jar down the stairs so I would not have to carry it. But this was before I found a plastic bag for my sandwiches). Last but not least, the cup of water (that I have learned to carry with my fingertips).

All I can say is that as a man, sacrificing your pride can help you lead a more comfortable life! But also as a man, sacrificing that same pride can be taken as a sign of admitting wrong doing, and I have done nothing wrong, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it! Lol

Until tomorrow my friends.