A brief recap of The Year That Was Not Always Happy: in December last year (the Bad Year started in 2012) I was just finishing my morning shower where <ka BOOM!>. My shower door exploded.
Yes, that is my bathtub, and that is my blood. Apparantly this happens; tempered glass can spontaneously explode. I climbed out as best I could. Except for lots of tiny cuts from the little slivers of glass that are part of a tempered glass explosion, I was pretty ok. I did have a deep, two inch wide cut on the top of my left foot however where the corner of the heavy glass door had landed as it shattered and dropped. It was not bleeding badly but I thought well, I should probably get it checked and it probably should be stitched. So after making a pressure bandage out of the sock I had just taken off, I wrapped it up and drove to the emergency room to see if they thought it needed stitches. The usual ER wait didn't take long...the blood oozing from the sock and on to the floor probably motivated the staff somewhat.
Once in the ER, cleaned up and no longer bleeding, it didn't look so bad.
I took a picture and sent it to my husband, who is a physician. You won't believe what happened! I texted. Ruh-roh! he said, ominously. That doesn't look good. What's the matter? I texted. I think you have damaged your tendon, he texted back. Hmm. Maybe he was right. My left foot certainly didn't look as perky as the right one. Hmmm.
And he was right. The ER Dr dug around and said a medical version of 'You are in deep doo-doo, Missy!'. I had indeed severed that big tendon that goes across the top of your foot. At the time I didn't realize what that exactly meant. I do now, 8 months later, and it was no fun.
The first repair surgery failed, thanks to an inept orthopedist who cheerfully told me 'I have never done one of these before!' (Note to self: bring Gray's Anatomy to any future surgeon and ask him to identify relevant body parts before surgery). The second surgery, in February, entailed a tendon graft and a much longer, very painful layup and recovery. I was non-weight bearing for three months. It was really miserable.
I had had a dear friend come for a visit for a week or two; she was here when I got hurt. Bless her, she stayed all winter and took care of my horses, fed the dogs and the chickens, and brought me soup and cereal for the weeks I was bed bound. I wrote before about how certain friends don't ask you what you need or if you need help; they just see a need and fill it. Hunter is that kind of friend. An experienced horse girl, she blanketed and mucked and fed the two boys I have at home for five months. My daughter came for two weeks as well and then on weekends. It is very hard for me to be dependent on other people. Emma and Hunter took such good care of me and Hunter kept me laughing rather than crying, which is certainly what I felt like doing.
So that's how the year started! And it just got better! >:-> Not.