You’re not gonna believe this

Had another accident

It’s been a pretty insane week – which is saying a lot considering everything that’s happened the past two years.

Immediately after my last post, I had a week of insomnia. Serious insomnia.

My demons seem to like to stop by after midnight and stay for a spell.

After about four days I took some serious sleep meds and woke up in daze at 3AM on my floor.

And a lotta blood. A whole mask of blood, in fact, courtesy of a two-inch gash on my eyebrow and blood all over my face. No idea what I hit but I probably tripped on a chair.

Got to my feet and staggered to the bathroom where I took a tube of crazy glue and roughly sealed the cut. Then I called up Gymgirl.

Me: Sorry to wake you. I had something happen and I need you to do two things: (a) Call me in three hours and make sure I wake up? And (b) do me a solid and come by tomorrow to watch the kid?
Gymgirl: What? Why?
Me: It’s a long story. But I need your help. Can do those two things for me?
Her: I’ll call you in three hours and see you as soon as I can.

She called me and I woke up.

The crazy glue kept the wound closed and I managed to drop the kid off at his daycare. Gymgirl would watch after him after his sitter.

Because I had to go to the ER and I had enough goddamn experience to know it’d take all day.

Surprisingly, the local medimerge said that they had a plastic surgeon that could patch me up. In six hours. Downtown. So I made it back home, crawled into bed and slept until it was time to make it downtown, which I somehow did.

Doctor: That’s quite a cut
Me: I always go for the superlative.

Took 13 stitches to patch me up. Had rough flashbacks the whole time.

Took a cab home cause I was so out of it that I was sure I’d end up in the train tracks otherwise.

Me: How’s the kid?
Gymgirl: He’s good. How are you? (looks at me) You look OK. You look like you’re wearing makeup.
Me: That’s the look I’m going for.

My demons come at me after midnight. Wish they wouldn’t.

Then again, I wish for a lotta things.


Location: home, sick and in pain, again
Mood: just @#$@#$@# peachy, again
Music: my life has been a silent fight to be ok
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Blogarama - Observations Blogs

Puttering around

The first days after an ACL operation are no fun at all

ACL injury in a leg braceFriday was interesting.

Woke up and got a phone call from the hospital at 9AM asking why I wasn’t there yet.

Me: My operation is scheduled for 2:45 today. I’m looking at my confirmation now.
Her: We have you down at 11AM.
Me: You’re kidding me.

She was not.

After several other phone calls, I hurriedly got dressed and hobbled out the door. After a few minutes of trying to get a cab, ended up taking the subway there. Don’t really remember how I made it down the stairs.

After a few more missteps – literally and figuratively – ended up on the cutting table.

Anesthesiologist: So how did you get injured?
Me: The usual, I was talking back to the wife.
Him: (laughing) You’ve got to learn to do that while walking away.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up with my leg wrapped up like a burrito.

The operation was a success and the wife picked me up and took me home. At first it didn’t hurt at all but once the anesthesia wore off, the pain came on hard and fast.

Wasn’t ready for it.

It’s not the pain of where the injury happened. It’s the two holes that they had to drill into my leg to get to the injury plus the two holes they drilled into my bone to attach a replacement (cadaver) ACL that was killing me.

My buddy Cary had gone through this before and told me to just enjoy the pain meds and have a lotta cookie dough. I did as instructed but substituted ice cream for the cookie dough.

Spent the rest of the weekend trying to not be sick from the meds and trying to find a comfortable position. Both were unsuccessful.

I’m told that the first 36 hours are the worst so I’m hoping that’s true. I’ve got 12 more days in this ridiculous contraption around my leg.

No fun at all. Luckily my wife is made of awesome and she made life as comfortable as possible over the weekend. She even got me a donut that was not whole-wheat.

And my mom called me, which was funny, as always.

Her: What about the guy that hurt you? Are you going to sue him?
Me: No. He’s an idiot but I’m not going to sue someone for being an idiot.
Her: Oooooh, I want to punch him! I want to punch him on his nose.

It’s good having people on your side.


I’m posting my follow-up to 10 Tips on how to write a good Match, OK Cupid, or POF dating profile: Part 1 on Friday.

Also, I’m posting at noon from now on, just fyi.

And now, more drugs. At least there’s no oatmeal to go with my vicodin.

Location: bed
Mood: uncomfortable
Music: down on both bad knees. I’m just too much
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