Archive for the ‘injuries’ Category

I’m feeling more down today than I have in a long, long time.

The closest I ever feel to depressed is just a feeling of loneliness.  I feel intolerant, let down, and as if no one in the entire world is capable of being a true friend.

That’s how I feel today.

I have some issues going on that I can’t talk about with, really, anyone.  They’re intertwined with finances, and there are several people in my life who really don’t want to hear me whine, considering the job I landed, and others who I wouldn’t want to share these details with anyway.

I went out with a friend who went on a weird assault on my daughter … which was pretty fucking catty and hypocritical, considering how many times she’s made a point of insisting we don’t talk about our kids when we’re out together – and considering how she is clearly channeling her own kid’s jealousies and social angst through her 42 year old mouth.  Nothing she accused E of was outside the range of normal 6th grade behavior (which she conceded once the nastiness subsided) … but if I had done the same about her kid, she would have run out in tears.  I wish I had the guts to say something, to call her out on it.  Instead, I let her change the subject.

J spent an hour crying today because she had to miss her first basketball practice.  Reason being twofold:  1)  Well, I didn’t sign her up until approx 12:30 this afternoon, and so she didn’t pack the things she needed, b/c I was not sure that they would let me sign her up late; 2) it overlapped with an extended practice for something else today.  But E’s basketball practice was later in the evening (as in, we just got home), and so J was jealous, and started to cry, and that pissed me off.   I was so happy and proud that I got her signed up, and I wanted her to be happy, too.  Instead, she cried.

And of course there are work irritations, too.  But whatever.

Oh, but I think I can say that I dropped my Blackberry today.  Wanna know where?  onto the T tracks.  So as I’m scurrying to pick it up, I’m hearing the *ding ding ding* of the train’s bell, and I’m totally freaking out that I’m gonna get run over.  I had to pick up the Berry, the battery, and the back cover.  I put it all back together, but it wasn’t turning on.  So I thought it had a SIM card or something, which went up under a track.  So I’m all freaked out that I dropped my blackberry, and that I broke it, and that I’m going to have to pay for another one (which collided right up against my financial frustrations, see above), and I’m sitting on the train stressing over that, and a close friend from law school hops on the train and sits next to me.  I can’t gather my thoughts, I feel awkward and weird, and stumbly over words, and I’m just NOT HAPPY!!!!

Let’s add onto that the fact this a.m., I fell.  Yes.  That’s correct.  I just FELL.  I was going to the train, at 6:30 a.m., and a train came, and I took the first step to run and thought, “no fucking way, I’m not running” and waved the train on.   So I’m NOT rushing, that’s not why I fell.  I went to the little newspaper stand to get the free paper with the daily sudoku and crossword puzzles that I love, and my heel lands funky on a split in the pavement.  It threatens to twist my bad ankle, and my legs just gave out.  I seriously think it’s a defensive mechanism that has kicked in to protect this on-the-verge-of-snapping-into-ten-million-pieces ankle/foot of mine.  I just … FALL.  All the way onto the ground. Fortunately, my suit pants didn’t rip.  but my knee is all skinned and bruised, and I later found out that the lining of the pants DID rip.  How the fuck does that happen?  The part that hits the pavement stays intact, but the inside part rips?

And then, tonight, the event which I think sealed my mood and brought me closest to tears — I’m walking home, of course looking down at my Blackberry trying to e-mail my sister, and I jam the same fucking foot against yet another uneven spot on the sidewalk, and I feel like I’m going to BARF because it hurts so bad after this morning’s fall.  And the tears didn’t come from pain – they just came from frustration.  Why ANOTHER thing going wrong?  Why?

Yeah, so I think today sucks.

Just to prove that not everything in the world is horrible, I will end this note on 2 positives:

1.  I finally, for the first time in 2 weeks, went to the gym today.  It was good.

2.  I got word of my swearing in.  It’s on Tuesday the 27th.  It will feel so good to be admitted to practice and to have a bar number.  I’ll get to be a full fledged grown up, then.

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The pants it is

Okay. Y’all made it clear – I need to get the pants. I shall do that.

Shoes are still complicated. The problem is the foot injury from 2002 that I perpetually complain about and fret over. I can’t wear the cool and sexy heels that are out there, because they hurt my stupid foot.

I know I should go and get the damned thing looked at. I think of some kind of Asian manipulation options … but I get scared, or tell myself it’s “fine.”

But it does affect my shoe choices.

But the clothes I buy and the look I enjoy requires heels.  Not only that, but if I wear pants, and if they fall right with heels on, they don’t fall right with flats on – so I can’t do the “shoes in my bag and sneakers on my feet” deal during the commute.  I’d be walking on my hems.  And my pants would look like shit.

So I’m looking at these, because this brand tends to work for me. The toe-part also should work for me – less coverage of the toes and top part of my foot often means pressure on my sore spots.

I wish I had good feet.

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I have bicycle seat butt.

This is the best reason to go for weekly bike rides.

When in school, I rode the bike daily.  Everywhere.  To school, home from school, to the store – extra tips to and from school, to the girls’ school for parent-teacher conferences, then back to my school.

Since I finished school, I have been on the bike ZERO times.  That would be since May 18th.

Today, I spent the day on the bike.  It was great.

I was not tired, because I’ve been exercising close to daily (other than in Europe, when Beloved and I walked 4,315 miles per day, so it was okay), and I’m pretty strong right now.

But now, I can’t walk.


My butt bones hurt.

I may need a new seat.

No, I DO need a new seat.

But I should also ride more often.

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Shopping and Resting.

I should have done less of the former and more of the latter.

Is it, though, properly called “shopping” when you buy nothing, and never intended to?

I went to try on work clothes today. I do not know my size. I have lost weight, and I know that the suits I bought last summer could easily have 4 inches chopped out of them, but I didn’t know how that translated.

Stores are so much harder than I think they used to be. Not only are there lots of cuts of pants named after various people (Ann Taylor names them after girls; Banana Republic after hoity toity boys), but now they have to go and add the “curvy” version of each.

In March, my 16s were tight.

Today, I am either a 10 curvy, or a 12 regular.

I was pleased with that result.

Still, I walked out with nothing.

Just because of the whole funding issue. Plus the little whispers in the back of my mind “I could lose 10 more pounds, and be a 10 regular!” Or an 8 curvy. Or 10 more pounds, and flirt with the 8s. That’s as low as I go, though.
I have a curvy butt. Regardless of the pounds.


Last night, after we said goodnight to the Qs, Beloved very lovingly prepared an ice pack for my pathetic ankle. I sat on the couch for 3 hours with the ice pack on my elevated ankle, reading a book.

When I got back up, at 11:30, I could not walk. My ankle hurt so much, I thought it was broken. It was awful. I limped/hopped/crawled to the bed, and collapsed in a shakey mess. The first thing I thought was, “I broke my ankle, and I don’t have health insurance.”

That’s right. I am uninsured. Isn’t that just beautiful?

I had been covered by the school all through my time there, and that expired on 8/31. My new insurance will kick in before the end of this month, and I didn’t see an easy way to bridge the gap (no Cobra for the school plan, for whatever reason – I don’t know why – I wasn’t concerned, seeing as though I forgot to pencil “break ankle” into my calendar).

Beloved got me Tylenol and I remained writhing on the bed while shaking with chattering teeth for at least 5 minutes. Then the Tylenol kicked in. I started to feel fine.

I woke up this a.m. knowing it still hurt, but also knowing it was not as bad as the previous night. It is still swollen, but I did walk on it to go meet a friend for lunch and then to try on clothes.

I didn’t feel well, though. I was dizzy and then my stomach started to bother me. I think that it’s because of my injury – it’s spreading bad feelings all over my body, trying to find some way to get me on my ass so I can get better.

Now I’m back on the couch. I have no kid duties – they’re being brought to me in a couple hours or so (5:30 or 6). I have nothing to do right now (because I’m pretending the laundry doesn’t exist, so that my ankle doesn’t threaten to make me puke again), and am on the couch, with the computer, a book, and drooping eyelids.

And I can safely say: The ankle isn’t broken.

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I do not understand why things can’t be simple.  I do not understand why, despite the plans I make, things must always go wrong.  I just don’t get it.

J’s dentist appointment was at 2:30.  School gets out at 2.  We have been at this office several times, using 3 different modes of transportation:

  1. The lovely MBTA, green line trolley
  2. The lovely MBTA bus
  3. A taxi-cab.

The taxi cab was infinitely more expensive than the other options, and really not all that faster.  But there was a time that I left the house without my wallet (b/c I am a dork) and got all the way to the girls’ school before I realized it.  I would not have made it on time if I had to get J from school, walk back home, get the wallet, and then walk back past the school to the appropriate T line.  The bus that makes a direct line between us and the medical area is notoriously slow, and only is scheduled to come once every 30 minutes … so add slowness to that, and I have been known to wait for up to an hour.

Today, however, I was afraid of the time crunch.   So I called cab company at 12:40 and told them to pick me up at 2:10.  In order to get out of the school dismissal crowd, I told them to pick me up around the corner at the library.  they said fine – you’re all set.

At 2:04, J and I get to the front of the library.  At 2:07, I notice that some girls flagged down a cab 1/2 way down the block and thought, “I hope that wasn’t my cab … but it’s early, so if it were, it wouldn’t take another customer.”  At 2:16, I got nervous.  I called the cab company.  The dispatcher said, “it’ll be right there.”

At 2:22, I called again.  he said, “I’ve sent two cabs!  You must have gotten the address wrong!”  I didn’t.  I was there.  On the street.  He said he’d send another one.

At 2:28, we gave up and started jogging to the T station.  It was a good 5 blocks away.  I was not happy – I had to really fight for this dentist appointment, and if we were so late so as to count as a cancellation, J wouldn’t get her braces on as scheduled.

Fortunately, the T came right away.   We only had to go one stop.  I realized that I really should have done it this way from the start.  But I hate waiting for trains when stressing that I’m going to be late for an appointment.

So much better waiting for a cab.

We got off the T, and had another good 4-5 blocks (long ones) to walk.  I said, “come on, J, let’s run” and started off at a trot.

For about 12 steps.

Then:  pop, crunch.

My ankle.

I turned it in a pothole on the sidewalk.  It hurt so bad, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk, let alone run the last 3 blocks.  It was 2:42.  I stood on the other foot while waiting for the cross signal, and found that I could in fact walk.  It hurt, but I could move.

We arrived at 2:50.  J was seen.  Separate post to follow.

When we left, we were joking that we would not take a more than one step per MINUTE after jogging to the appointment, and we were walking reeeaaaallllly slowwwwwlllly.  I was glad of that, because my ankle was still throbbing.

But we walked to the T, we walked from the T to the school to get E.  We walked from the school to the pharmacy to get J some tylenol because her mouth was sore.  We walked home from the pharmacy.  I knew my ankle was a little sore, but I didn’t feel like I couldn’t walk.

Upon getting home, I came straight to my bed with my computer (E has a friend over, and they’re watching t.v.).  My ankle is THROBBING.  It hurts so bad.  I got up after emailing my sister to get the mail, and I could barely walk.

Great.  Just great.

I am not out of shape anymore.  I don’t understand why I can’t fucking walk without all the drama.  I exercise every day.  I hike.  I walk everywhere I go.  WHY OH WHY does this happen to me?  Note an excerpt from a post I wrote earlier in the summer:

In November of 2002, I stumbled down the steps of the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. I had on Dansko clogs, and my foot twisted onto its side in a way that [i think] pulled every single muscle and tendon in my foot. It hurt so much, I could barely walk for a week. I went to the doctor and had x-rays taken, thinking it was broken, but there were no breaks.

It’s bothered me ever since.

I have changed my shoe-buying habits since then. I often go for brands that are known for their sturdiness rather than for their fashion-quota … although I try to bridge the two. I still wear Danskos, but not that same heel, b/c I do occasionally turn my foot in them, and when I do, it sparks every bit of pain that I had on that day of the fall. I hear from many of my friends that they also turn their feet in those shoes, so then I don’t think I’m that clumsy.

See?  This is a theme, and I’m really sick and tired of it.

The foot today – same foot I hurt in ’02.  the shoes I had on today?  Loafers.  100% flat loafers with grippies on the bottoms.  They’re Borns.  totally conservative and safe shoes.

Yet, here I am wondering if it’s too tacky to ask E to bring me tylenol and a glass of water when she has a friend over.  Because I don’t want to get up and walk to the other room.

Because it hurts.

I will never again call a cab in this town.

I would also like to point out that this is not a side effect of not having a car.  If I had a car, and if I were to take J to the dentist right after school – we would have been later than we were.  Not because my car wouldn’t have picked me up, but because I would have been driving into one of the most congested parts of Boston, the medical area, with the least amount of parking.  A cab could have worked (you know, if it showed up) because it doesn’t have to park.  A car would not work, and driving from their school to this doctor’s office in a car that I would be required to put somewhere while inside would not have been feasible.

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