Beware: this post shall wander aimlessly…
I think I may be suffering some kind of PTSD associated with my broken leg. Example: while watching a movie tonight, my eye was caught by my cat, Fargo, who was on the floor in front of me. A cat toy (grey, made of rubber) was caught on his nail. But when I looked down, it looked like he was flapping a broken leg in the air. I screeched out “Holy shit, Fargo’s leg is broken!”.
He was flapping the cat toy, which was stuck to his paw… being the same color, it looked like he was limping around with a broken limb. I leapt to my feet, prepared to help my poor kitty… when he shook the toy off his nail and my dad is looking at me like “what is wrong with you?”
Feeling “old” this week. A combination of things…
1. My birthday. 41. Nothing much happened for my birthday. at all.
2. <removed because some people are nosey and need to mind their own business.>
3. Work. My first day back… I had to fire someone. For very good reason, but I felt so… hilariously mature, like I was an adult Ferris Bueller would frown upon and say “why are you harshing my day, Cameron?” I felt OLD doing it. But oddly feeling that I only did what had to be done. And it got WORSE… “Welcome to As the Library Turns…” I can’t even outline it all. Maybe someday… I sure hope the dumb ass wasn’t on K2 or something, and shows up for blind drugged vengeance… but calling the police was necessary. Felt very much like the Syed incident at Noble, but amplified because I wasn’t the direct victim, but I was the adult who said “we MUST call the police. It’s the only thing we can do.” Wonder if a court date comes up on it… I doubt it will be as funny as the Syed court was. Judge: “English, do you speak it???”
4. Hiring new people. 5 interviews in a week. Picked 2. They’re so… young. And look at me like a mentor… like their boss. Which is kind of cool, and oddly responsible at the same time. Humbling, really. It is such responsibility to do it RIGHT.
5. Dealing with ye olde broken ankle/leg. I’m on a 25% plan until the 4th of July. 25% more weight per week, and I need to get into PT asap. Starting Monday, a friend from work is calling the PT at Providence Park for me to set up an appointment. I’ve started putting weight on it, and find some negative effects quickly… I had a large swelling of my foot and foreleg yesterday from walking around the house outside on crutches.
I so miss just being able to walk! a simple little walk around the house. Down the street. Up the stairs. I miss my own piece of shit condo.
6. Borg… it’s looking more and more like I’m going to become the Six Million Dollar Borg. Assimilated into a collective of deaf. Confirming diagnosis… this sucks. Just what I need this year: more major surgery. six months of numb head and total deafness for up to a month, and NO guarantee the procedure would stop the tinnitus.
7. CPAP madness. Okay. BCBSM, I have a message for you: Your BS “30 days consecutive use” plan is completely inhumane. See all the stuff I’ve written above? I have way more important things to do in my life than sleep in only one way, with that shit shoved in my head. Will the CPAP save my life? maybe so. But all things in their place and time… your plan takes no comprehension to the fact that life changes daily. I’ll just return the damn thing and buy one of my own online. Then I’ll use the thing when I can without being monitored like Nazi America. My doctor will be thrilled then. And the company that would have sold me a CPAP? You just cost them a nice contract.