Routinely

I am an “everything has it’s place” kind of gal. The glasses in the cabinet have their specific spot, placed neatly next to each other. The coffee table books are angled on the coffee table just so, in a visually appealing stack. The pillows on the sofa go on the left and right corners, after being fluffed, and I am the queen of telling my kids “put that back where you found it.” I have a little bit (or maybe more) of Monica from Friends in me.

Before I broke a leg bone I was a “wash my hair in the morning, blow dry it, put my contacts in, spread moisturizer on my face, put on my make-up, put on my deodorant, get dressed” kind of gal. But in the last few weeks I have not worn my contact lenses at all and someone has had to help me shower every night. Instead of driving the kids to school and myself to work, I must rely on others (mostly my father) to take me places. I haven’t driven my van since Saturday, January 3rd.

I cannot sweep. I cannot make my bed. I cannot brush my teeth without a crutch right next to me.

These days other people are putting the glasses in the cabinet wherever the heck they please. The coffee table books were moved to accommodate flowers from friends and coworkers and a basket full of medicinal bottles. Most things have NOT been put back where they go, and do not even get me started on the couch pillows.

All my routines have been pushed aside or misplaced. And I have been leaning hard on all kinds of back up plans and generous people. I haven’t made dinner in over two weeks (which maybe isn’t such a bad thing).

I am sitting in (I’m sorry, laying with my foot propped up) in uncomfortableness. For me to feel calm, my days need to go as planned and not be bothered by the inconveniences of a broken something. Things are not supposed to break. They are supposed to be fixed and work properly. I much prefer to go and do everything as I want and need to every day, on my schedule, in my way.

So let me tell you, when something like this happens, there is an adjustment period for someone like me. And when you look down in the doctor’s office, after not using your foot and calf for over two weeks and your leg does not look like your own leg anymore, as if they put someone else’s calf on your body, well, oooh boy! does that suck. Also, if you’re me, it makes you cry right before the doctor comes in the room to tell you things look good. Because even though I know I am not perfect and life isn’t, and none of it ever will be, I like to get close.

I need routine and I seem to be coming up with a new one, however, I want my old one back (yesterday). I will be so very happy to walk and drive in about a month. I don’t really like depending on “crutches” but I am also so thankful I have such a caring community surrounding me. I just want my independence back. Looking forward to PT and two operating legs again. The word “walking” never meant so much to me before now. PT here I come…