I’ve been trapped indoors a good deal of late, so it’s understandable why I would lose all sense of decorum when released into the wild again.
As I’ve mentioned, I was set free from the knee immobilizer last Friday and given permission to freely move around on my crutches. I was told by the man wearing a white coat with a stethoscope around his neck that I need to be careful not to try to ditch the crutches too soon.
I tend not to trust the men in the white coats with stethoscopes draped about their necks. As many times as I’ve been in their office in the last 3 months, and as many times as they’ve cut me open to have a look-see on my knee, I really think they have no idea who I am.
It’s like a fresh introduction every time they see me.
They always begin, “Well, (looks down at chart for name) DeeDee, your knee is looking much better today.”
ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME? IT HAS ITS OWN ZIP CODE.
That’s the convo in my head. Instead I offer mildly, “Really, you think so? Well, why can’t I walk? …..And why do I want to gnaw off my own leg because of the pain?”
Okay, last part, convo in my head. Instead of just go through the entire diatribe of how this all started, and why I’m here, blah, blah, blah, and JUST MAKE IT BETTER. ‘KAY?
Next time I’m going to simply say that I’m feeling dandy, whether or not I am, because I fear if I don’t I’ll hear….“Well, (looks down at chart for name) DeeDee, looks like it’s time for another surgery!”
Look at me, I’ve digressed.
So. I’ve been free-wheeling around here for a few days now. I still can’t bend at the knee. Which makes trips to the bathroom difficult to navigate. Especially since our little commode is housed in a tiny room with a door. A water closet, if you will. And if you are like me, and cannot perform without complete privacy, as in the door must be closed at all times, you are really screwed.
Because when I sit, my leg shoots straight out. And now my family knows that if they round a corner and catch sight of a singular leg sticking out of the bathroom door, they are to turn immediately around and head in the other direction. Averting their eyes.
One of the more difficult things for me during this whole ordeal is that I’m a notorious straightener by nature. Which requires the use of hands. Hands not attached to crutches. I’ve been known to clear the condiments before Fiddledaddy has even had a chance to finish making a sandwich. Drives him batty.
These days, I have a hard time straightening unless I ditch a crutch. And Fiddledaddy has trained all the children to narc on me if that happens. So I get away with very little. He won’t even leave the house without leaving at least one child to guard dog me.
Today while heading out to the car for an exciting yearly checkup, I discovered that since it was recyclable day, there were coupon flyers all over our yard and in the street. Since we no longer get a paper, I surmised they were blown over from a neighboring trash receptacle and thereby fair game.
COUPONS! I began chasing them around the yard, using my crutches as chop sticks to procure them.
Causing Fiddledaddy’s head to explode.
But the highlight of my morning was not the free coupons, but rather came during the visit to my doctor for my yearly exam. My doctor had the nerve to say to me, “Well, DeeDee, (looking down at chart for date of birth) since you’re turning %# this year, we’ll need to schedule you for a colonoscopy.”
I picked up my crutches, and left a trail of dust as I hastily exited the building.
I will be phoning in all future doctor’s office visits from here on out. And the money that I save on co-pays will be wisely spent on extensive psychotherapy.