OMINOUS WHEELCHAIRS

Because I live in a condo with two levels, I am lucky enough to have two wheelchairs at my disposal.  Kelly brought one over from her workplace, and my mom brought over my grandma's old chair.

This is significant because, well - have you ever used crutches?  They are a MASSIVE pain.  In the armpits, mostly, but also because even the very coordinated can end up on their asses.  I was constantly worried that I was going to do more harm to my ankle than I already had because I was always finding myself off balance.

Also, crutches are exhausting.  I found myself out of breath going from my couch to the kitchen.  Of course, that could possibly also have something to do with the fact that I've practically been living on my couch since May 4, but that's just conjecture.

The wheelchair on the lower level is getting a good amount of use.  When I get my lazy ass out of bed, that is.  I've gotten pretty adept at wheeling around the living room and kitchen, and it's really given me the freedom that I thought I'd lost.  After a while, I've even been able to cook and clean.

Well, I might be taking liberties with the definition of "cleaning," but at the very least, I am happy to tell you that the house doesn't look like a complete mess.

Upstairs, the wheelchair is pretty much imperative.  For the first week after I broke my ankle, I was either scooting around on my butt upstairs, or hopping on my one good leg.  It got dangerous when I almost fell down the stairs at one point.  And again, exhausting.  I think that I've taken a good amount of paint off of the door jambs, but I'll get around to fixing that eventually.

But wherever I am, the wheelchairs look like they are laying in wait.  Waiting to get me.  Look at it there at the bottom of the stairs.  It's all, "Yeah, come on down. I'll take you wherever you need to go.  If where you need to go IS HELL. BWAH HA HA!" DUN DUN DUN!

I have yet another appointment on June 5, and I'm hoping to get the cast off at that point.  I am NOT looking forward to seeing what my leg looks like under the cast, however.  This is what it looked like five days after the surgery (warning: IT'S GROSS):

LOVELY.

(Also, there are more pictures, but the bruising and the disgustingness is just too much, trust me.)

But then! I got this pretty cast:

It's been three weeks since my misstep, and let me just tell you, I am so fucking sick of this fucking cast.  I'm lucky that it wasn't worse, yes, but not being able to do much of anything is getting really, really old.

And I don't know when I am going to be allowed to drive again.