Remember my sore foot? Well, four days of as little walking as
possible and it seemed to be on the mend. Three hours at work today and .................... a trip to emergency for an X-Ray.
I am now the proud user of these.............................
and by golly , they make having a sore foot feel like a picnic.
My under-arms are rubbed raw and I think my bra
under wires will have to be surgically removed from my sides at the end of the day. I am so very very bad at ambulating on these things , that old people , like seriously old people were overtaking me on the footpath and asking me if I was
OK. I fell up the gutter twice and dropped one crutch down some stairs. It was kinda like my legs went out drinking and forgot to tell the rest of me..
I am on them for a week to start with - and no, nobody has any idea what is wrong my foot. We know it is not broken so
that's good I guess.
I am not a good patient , I am
whingey and
whiney and generally grumpy. I am cross because I am in pain , and because my foot is stupid and because my crutches are
obviously faulty and I am supposed to be moving the bloody library into the new building next week - Ha !!!
I am cross because I cannot just whip anywhere, like the post office or the patchwork shop or even the bloody letterbox at this rate, without having to organise half the family to get my bag, carry my stuff, just pick up that thing off the floor, pass me the other crutch, move things, open doors and generally join the passing parade that is Jodie-hauling-her-behind-from-one spot-to-another parade.
You know what? It is lucky I put in all that time over the weekend learning to accelerate the sewing machine with my right foot.