Mom on crutches

You know how the Google search box will start filling in words for you, like it knows what you're going to type?  Most of the time that works pretty well for me.  I had to laugh this morning, though, when I tried typing "mom on crutches."  I got to "mom on cr" and then Google supplied this phrase:  "mom on crack rock."  Lovely.  I'll admit I am taking Extra Strength Tylenol like clockwork during the day and a prescription med at night.  I can't remember what it's called, and I'm not ready to go to the trouble of going downstairs to find out--more on that process later.  I think it's like Vicodin, but at a lower dose.

For posterity's sake:

Sunday night, the fifth evening of our Texas vacation for a spectacular, better-than-we-could-have-ever-imagined Sheen Family Reunion in Sachse, TX, I took a wrong step off the sidewalk and broke my foot as I was leaving Brant and Chris's home for the reunion family picture.  I was in strong sandals, my left foot kind of slid off the edge of the sidewalk, and I crumbled on top of myself.  The first thing I asked for was a bandage for my knee because it was bleeding a tiny bit.  I tried to walk a bit, and it hurt, but not as bad as the other two times I'd broken my foot  (age 14 on the trampoline, and then when Rhiannon was still in her crib).   Right then and there I should have sat down and screamed for some ice, but I can be really silly sometimes and wanted to be in that family picture.    No one knew the extent of my injury, and neither did I, at that point.  Rhiannon and Wade walked with me and let me squeeze their hands tightly as I hobbled along down this trail.  My brother Tommy, a radiology tech, was very concerned and offered me a piggy back ride, which I should have taken but didn't.  That's when others started to know I was hurting.  My mom looked at my foot and gasped.  I remember hearing all these voices behind me asking me if I was okay at one point on that never-ending walk to the picture site, and I turned around, crying, and said, "Please stop talking about it!"   Then I put on a happy face, gripping Mom's arm in the picture, my foot hurting more with each passing second.  When the photographer wanted to keep taking shots of our little family, I finally started crying and said, "I'm sorry, I can't do anymore."    Jason got me on his back and carried me to the car.  (Later he concluded that he needed to get stronger and I needed to get lighter!  Ain't that the truth!)   We got some ice from Brant and decided to go back to the hotel, where I kept ice on my foot all night and got around the room and to the bathroom by crawling.  Our sweet kids were all attention and kindness--I could tell they were very worried so I tried to keep it cool as much as possible, but they knew I was in pain.  Rhiannon didn't even want to look at my foot, and I don't blame her--that night it looked like there was a big bubble on my foot!

Early the next morning, July 4th, I was a mental mixture of gratitude and depression, so grateful that I could manage a sponge bath in the tub on my own, so depressed about all the things I was going to need help with.  So grateful for the help I'd already been given, so depressed realizing how out of shape I was, thinking that it would be a LOT easier if I was 20 pounds lighter and had crazy awesome muscle strength.  So grateful my right foot was okay!  So grateful I had the support of family, but so embarrassed about creating this drama during the family reunion.  So depressed, so depressed, so depressed.

We got to a Care One clinic and were the first to be seen at 8am--Jason had preregistered the night before online--it was awesome!  In under an hour I had x-rays, was diagnosed with a Jones fracture, and then I was given a walking boot and crutches, plus a prescription and instructions to keep weight off the foot, keep the boot on except for showering, and see a doctor when we got back to Texas. 

Crutches make me tired.

That day I spent most of my time in Brant and Chris's cozy living room, besides going to Cici's for lunch and then a minor league baseball game in the evening.  I'm glad I went, but I'll admit it wasn't a walk in the park.  The stairs to our seats made me break out in a cold sweat because I hadn't mastered stairs yet (and still haven't).  The game was fun, though hot, and the fireworks at the end were wonderful!  Somehow I managed to hobble from my seat all the way to the parking garage and then face my fears and go up a flight of stairs--the elevator wasn't working.  At that point all I wanted to do was get to the car and turn on the A/C full blast--it was HOT!!!!!!!

Tuesday we went out to Tommy and Lydia's cute place in Denton, had lunch at Whataburger, and then I sat around some more at Brant and Chris's!  I'm doing a lot of that!

Wednesday I faced the music and survived the airport experience.  The hardest part was entering and exiting the planes on this tiny little ramp--I had to walk sideways with the crutches.  Getting through security was dumb--I got a body scan by hopping into this circular thing and standing with my arms over my head.  Jason said we had it easy--there weren't many people around and people were patient with us.  I sent grateful prayers heavenward for not needing to use the bathroom on the airplanes.  I did get a couple wheelchair rides, and I made a new friend, Sandy, when we were waiting for our Inyokern flight.  She was an older woman--I plopped down next to her, the closest spot to the exit ramp for the plane, and we bonded over our disabilities--she was legally blind and said she worried about falling a lot because of her tunnel vision.  She also liked to talk about religion a lot.  It was fun and sure made the time go by quickly! 

Now we are home.  I've got a doctor's apointment set for next Tuesday.  The best way I can describe being a mom on crutches is that I am taking things one hop at a time.  One minute I feel like Superwoman because I managed a grocery-shopping trip, by driving in the van, hopping to a motorized cart, and letting Rhiannon and Wade do all the rest.  The next minute I am terrified that at some point I'm going to fall and break my good right foot and then where will I be?  I'm icing my foot at night and during the day with bags of frozen, shredded zucchini.  I'm getting cleaned up by taking "kneeling" showers.  It's very uncomfortable.  I'm still figuring things out--I know I'll make life easier for myself and my hard-working family  members if I can think ahead a little bit, but right now I'm very "in the moment," need help constantly, and it drives me CrAzY. 

Yesterday I "Googled" about my injury.  I didn't stay on the computer for too long because all I could find, over and over again, was that Jones fractures take a long, long, long, long time to heal.  Like months, not weeks.  So I got off the computer, took a deep breath, and decided to wait to hear what the doctor has to say about my third-times-a-charm Jones fracture, located in the same spot all three times.

I am so grateful for concerned family members and friends.  I feel terrible about this burden on my family, but Jason and the kids are up to the challenge and have been so caring and considerate.  I'm glad I can use my hands.  I'm thankful for my strong right foot and the workout my arms are getting.   One important thing I'd like to do is get a priesthood blessing for a full recovery.  I said I wanted one when we were in Texas, but I didn't ever ASK for one, so I will make sure that gets done this weekend.

Once I get the camera up here, I'll do a very happy, fun post on our Sheen Reunion!  It was AWESOME!!!!