Last Friday, I paid another visit to my orthopedic surgeon to determine how much longer my leg will remain in a fiberglass cast monstrosity. The X-ray conveyed calcification in my femur, a great sign.
The doctor proceeded to take off the cast with the hope of placing my leg in a soft cast for 6 weeks. He bent it and muttered “Hmm, no good, too ‘rubbery.’ I need to recast it and you will need to wear it for 3 more weeks.” My heart sank, and all the energy was sucked out of the air. Toughen up ‘Pretty Cripple’, you will get through this, I thought. I toyed with an imaginary conversation to boost my morale.
Me: Ok, that isn’t the best news, but at least you didn’t say ‘I’m sorry, but we are going to have to remove your leg and replace it with a peg leg.’
Surgeon Barry: Yes, you could look at it that way.
Me: Peg legs aside, I need some pain meds. I love lucidity though. Can you prescribe something that won’t make me look like this?
Surgeon Barry: Shakes his head and says ‘Ha, ha, can you do that again?’
Me: (I make my ‘Percocet face’ again but delivering more animation.) I am sensitive to pain meds and just lie in bed rocking back and forth. I like my brain the way it works. I don’t want to feel numb and take 1 minute to respond to a simple question such as “Do you like Dr. Brown’s cherry soda?”
Surgeon Barry: Have you ever had Tramadol? It might make you a little sleepy, but you won’t rock back and forth.
Me: Yes, I had some after my wisdom tooth was taken out. Sold. Tramadol it is.
When I returned home with my meds I had something to lift my doldrums. Three of my girlfriends planned a weekend long visit to decorate my cast.
Although I have felt like a ‘shut-in’ since July 2nd, I have had plenty of time to obsess about some things many of you would never entertain in July. Fall fashion. Summer designer sales are almost over and fashion designers are loading my email box full of fall fashion images.
The last thing a shut-in should pay attention to is one’s complexion. Since my teen years, I have always thought of myself as a high-priestess of skincare. I love new skin care products, facials, peels, microdermabrasion and on and on. A little effort goes a long way. There is no reason your skin should look like America’s decrepit infrastructure. So let me clue you in about one of many products I use to exfoliate and rejuvenate my skin.
Every day I try to remind myself that when life gives you lemons, make lemonade with at least 4 oz. of good Polish vodka. Otherwise, you might end up eating a handful of Percocet like Tic-Tacs. On the bright side, I have friends, family, a 46 inch LED TV with Blu-Ray and a long list of movies, which keep me entertained. My mind often wanders and I wonder what would be if I broke my femur in 1858 and lived outside of NYC. I wouldn’t have Tramadol for starters. I would probably be addicted to morphine and have to whore myself out to get the next fix. All the while sitting uncomfortably in an ugly wooden wheelchair, feathered bonnet, wearing a corset while slowly asphyxiating myself. Then I would roll home, churn butter, press my mother’s lace blouse, turn the oven on and shut all the windows. Talk about a mundane infernal existence. God, they didn’t even have online courses back then!
TWO and a HALF more weeks, people! Summer, at least, will still be here. Enjoy life and be grateful of having first world dilemmas such as grass fed organic butter or ersatz margarine?!