Is that not the ugliest thing you have ever seen? OK, not the leg, the stocking. It's a compression stocking and is used after surgeries to prevent blood clots from shooting to your heart and knocking you dead, and to keep circulation moving. But, why, I ask you, can't they make one that looks like black fishnet? I mean, really, how difficult would that be, and how much better would I feel wearing it if it were? I wonder if healing would occur more quickly if one could feel just a little bit sexy in the process, you know? I could just get one for the other leg and drive the cowboy nuts while I'm recuperating. Prime that pump so to speak.
If the stocking itself isn't absurd enough, imagine my dismay when I realized I was down to two people to help me change it: my dad or my boyfriend. Arrrgghh!!! Somebody save me from this humiliation! Funny that I don't mind the gorgeous PT changing it - must be because I know he's a professional and he's seen tons of hairy, un-cared for legs and feet in his job(remember, my injury occurred on Jan. 19th and I have not been able to reach my left foot since then!). I have PT again tomorrow and an appointment afterwards for the sutures to be removed. And even though I don't have the money for it, I'm treating myself to a pedicure afterwards and maybe a pair of black fishnets to go with it.
Yesterday, they let me switch from this leg brace to this one. The first one I have actually had to sleep with since surgery. Trust me, I'm definitely ready for something else to be sharing my bed. Honestly, can you imagine having to sleep in that thing??
I guess the biggest absurdity was receiving a pink slip three days after surgery, when I was in the most extreme pain and surely not in a psychic place to be hit with not having a job. I experienced hurt, anger, dismay, that someone I worked hard for for two and a half years felt I could be treated with such abject dismissal. And then I remembered the source. And I remembered that I had been toying with looking for another job for quite awhile, and I remembered being ambushed on the pontoon boat, and I remembered the week that I went to detox in September of 2006, which I was paid for and which got me off that awful drug, ativan, and I figure it all worked out in the end. I have acted with integrity, which is certainly not a given, but which is something I will take with me to my next job - whatever it may turn out to be. In the meantime? I'm just relaxing.