I’m four days in on my “chair arrest.” I sit in this chair, with my sea of supplies surrounding me. Crutches, pillows, water bottle, to-do list, pen {for crossing off those items!}, phone and charger, work files, blankets, towels for when I ice, lonely single socks, chapstick, and a dog.
Yesterday, word started spreading and people were sending me well wishes. I think I passed my “no pain!” quota because yesterday afternoon the pain slowly started coming on. It’s nowhere near the pain I had Saturday night, but it’s still pain. I think it’s pain from my foot being so swollen. My toes feel stress and strain as my skin stretches out. As I type this, the skin around my foot feels like it is being stretched. It brings with a kind of dull ache or weird numbness. Every once in a while I have legitimate pain that I can only describe as “I broke my foot and it kind of hurts.” Then there’s the aching of my ankle from the swelling and the position it’s forced to be in with this boot.
On top of my broken foot {AH! I BROKE MY FOOT!}, I’ve got immense mommy guilt. Mommy and wife guilt. I’m helpless. I can’t do anything. I can only carry things that one finger can hold up because I have to squish it between my hand and the crutches. I can’t lift Maximus up when he walks over with his arms up saying, “inga!” {Anyone know what word he’s trying to say? He uses it for up or when he wants something.} I can’t feed Maximus or Wrigley. Heck, I can’t even prepare my own food or put my dishes in the dishwasher. I filled up my water bottle today and was pretty proud of myself, but I only had a short distance to carry it. It takes me so long to let the dog outside that he sits down against the door and waits for me.
In the morning I listen to Bryan get himself ready for work, take care of the dog, and get Maximus up. All things that I normally do each morning. It’s hard to listen to it from my bedroom. It’s not that I don’t think he can handle everything, but rather we have a shared approach. If someone can’t get the toddler or dog under control, the other tries another approach. Lately, there are a lot of toddler tantrums and meltdowns in our house. So, I sit and listen as Bryan tries to figure out what has set off the latest meltdown. It breaks my heart and makes me feel horrible. I feel horrible for the way it starts my husband’s day as he heads off to work. I feel horrible for my sad baby because I can’t comfort him. I feel horrible because before they leave, Bryan will have to get me set up for the day – putting pillows in the living room, plugging in my laptop, filling up my water bottle.
The same story is played out at night, except everyone has had a long day that only adds to their stresses. I can see the patience running thin and that’s usually when one of us steps in. Except, ya know, I can’t step anywhere. I can hop on one foot. But no stepping in to change the mood. I can get down on the floor and play with Maximus for about 10 minutes before the pain in my foot is too much. Maximus doesn’t understand so part of his meltdowns are because he wants me to do something. Obviously I’m not cooking anything for supper. I barely remember what’s in the house so I can’t offer many ideas either. Instead, Maximus is eating a lot of pasta because Bryan can make it quickly when the meltdown starts.
I’m sure it’s no fun having a broken leg if you don’t have anyone who relies on you, but I’m feeling extra worse about it right now. Too many people in the house rely on me and the only thing I’m doing is adding to the stress.
