|Another day, another prop-up|
Week 3 of Peg-leg Leslie and the Broken Foot
So my new morning routine is this. cautiously lean out of bed to reach my cane (or crop as Mei, the equestrian calls it), come slowly--and painfully--to my feet. Hobble into the bathroom for a few minutes of wake-up duty. Thump-da-thump to the closet for some old jeans, and a sweatshirt. Got to be comfortable sitting in a chair all day! Re-wrap the injury with a stretched-out Ace bandage given to me at the ER (love, love the edging of sewn-in Velcro for grip!) and strap on the stylish also-Velcroed bootie. Match up the heel height with the most similar thing I have: a navy L.L.Bean felt clog from around 1992 that has the toe area chewed out by the dog. Skip the make-up. Who's gonna see me?
Take on the most challenging part of the day: descending the stairs. Ours are long and CURVE adding to the excitement. Good foot down, bad foot brought along-side while stepping perpendicular to the riser.This keeps the useless one from flexing, the most agonizing position the appendage can assume. Phone in pocket. Water glasses and yesterday's newspapers left behind. Need the hands for bracing myself! Father R will collect those on the weekend, hopefully before we run out of clean ones.
Thump-da-thump-da-thump to the kitchen wishing we had a two-bedroom rambler. Nuke tea water, pour into Thermos mug ( saves getting up for the re-heat later), and plop in the easy chair for the rest of the morning, my laptop waiting to take me out into the virtual world, a place I have only been chauffeured to twice in as many weeks.
The poor dog, whose own morning routine for five years has been to find a toy and be chased around the house in a catch-and-fetch version of Keep-away tries again to engage me, but gives up and lays at my feet again for another long day wondering what he did to deserve my rejection. If only he could read the blog.