Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Pardon me

Tibia Metal Plate
While I sulk, complain, cry. It was ME after all who was hit by a car, suffered a fractured Tibia, and had surgery to repair it. Oh yeah, and now my leg has hardware in it – a metal plate with several screws. I saw the doctors order for the parts, they had SKU numbers. Yes, SKU numbers.

As courageous and brave as I am, even I need a break. Give me a second to adjust to this all. Sorry, if I can’t get down the stairs this week to get myself something to eat. Sorry, if I can’t drive myself to doctor's appointments and the grocery store. Sorry, I feel like I shouldn’t have to ask for help. Those who know me and are close to me should have already gotten the memo. Okay, so I certainly do not expect the world to quit moving while I recover. Injuiries, surgeries happen all the time, and everyone has busy lives, but come on -- really?

Without a doubt, everything happens for a reason, this too shall pass, and certainly I’ll come through this with flying colors. I get that, but get this – I’m not even a week post-up from a major orthopedic surgery. My cape is at the dry cleaners. Again, I need a minute to wrap my mind around all of this. Just give me a second to figure out how and what I feel, please.

I realize these circumstances don’t give me a license to become a lazy, complaining freak, but for sure, I deserve at least one week to rest, cry, and expect unsolicited help without having to apologize. I'll  return to true form soon, I promise. For now, pardon me for expressing my raw emotions. 

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The evidence of an epidemic is everywhere.

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