I am, literally, sick of being off my feet.
Not just tired of it, but truly sick of it.
Yesterday was a bad day. It was probably the second worst since I broke my ankle.
The day started off great. My pain was completely under control, and I was feeling great!
I thought that I’d turned a corner.
That’s when the universe laughed.
One of the bad things about pain medication is that it can limit a person’s ability to do some personal business in the bathroom…as in the not-tinkling-kind-of-business. The kind that takes care of the plumbing, if you know what I mean.
So what ultimately happened, we think, started with my visit to the emergency room the night of the 13th, is when I began getting pain medication, both in my IV and as a prescription.
I’ve taken a lot of pain meds, let me tell you. Breaking three bones in your ankle is not something you can ignore. The pain screams for intervention.
Then, with the nerve block I got during my surgery and the heavy pain medicine I’ve been on since then, my body has not adjusted to all of the new stuff being put into it.
In addition to pain medicine, I’ve been taking vitamin supplements to begin the process of improving my bone density.
All of that led to my inability to use the restroom.
It would be okay if it was just a day or two, but folks, we are talking about a week and a half.
For someone who never, ever has issues with this body function, this is a huge ordeal.
Everything caught up with me yesterday.
I tried to eat but became so nauseous that I couldn’t.
The nausea took over my day, along with my efforts to try to go.
I got sicker and sicker.
The hubby made me a smoothie. I’d recently come across the recipe.
Although it tasted delicious, I was only able to drink half of it, and it stuck in the middle of my stomach.
Y’all, it was bad. I felt as though someone had put a fist in the middle of my stomach, right below my chest.
I knew I had to potty, but I wasn’t 100% sure I wasn’t going to puke either.
At one point, I spent a couple of hours in the bathroom determined to wait things out.
The dogs visited me a few times, bless their hearts.
It didn’t work.
I do not give up easily, but I had to throw in the towel eventually.
Meanwhile, the Mr. had started on a task that I’d been looking forward to for a couple of weeks…
This is the pre-lit tree we bought from Home Depot.
While I’d been in the bathroom, I’d heard him struggling to lift the different pieces and put them into place.
I’d heard him grumble about fixing the branches. Everyone knows that’s the worst part of putting up an artificial tree.
When I emerged from the restroom, he began putting on the ornaments.
My heart, though.
We love doing this…remembering sweet times with our children. We gave Rooster his ornaments this summer when his new missus was packing for their cross-country move to his first base, so our ornament selection has dwindled a little.
While the Mr. decorated, I dozed. Being nauseous and dizzy just isn’t fun, y’all.
Then, he took a break to go potty himself, and that is when chaos ensued.
You know when you know you’re about to vomit?
For me, it begins with my stomach churning.
It goes into my cheeks squirting juice across my mouth.
Sounds like loads of fun, eh?
And I was stuck in my chair…broken leg elevated…the Mr. in his bathroom.
Perfect timing, as I’m wont to do.
The only thing I had close to me was a mesh trash basket.
I YELLED for the Mr.
I told him in a rushed voice that I needed him ASAP…that I was about to throw up.
That poor man RAN out of the bathroom, fussing at me the whole time.
Where was the plastic barf bag he’d constructed for me while I’d been in the bathroom earlier? He’d put three Publix bags together and had kept them close to me when i didn’t know which way I’d be taking care of business.
It was nowhere to be found.
Oh wait. It was still in the bathroom.
I’ve never seen him run so fast, y’all. He high-tailed it across the house, grabbed the bag, and rushed back to me just in time.
Up came the smoothie and the three bites of soup I’d had for lunch.
Into the bag, thank heavens.
In addition to bad timing, I’m also known for not hitting toilets when I puke.
I’m talented like that.
It was over quickly. I didn’t have much food in me to get rid of.
I tied things up neatly, and he took the bag to the outside garbage can.
Immediately, I felt better, and I was able to crutch myself over to the restroom.
I didn’t get sick any more after that, but my relief from the earlier puking session was short-lived. It didn’t take long for me to get nauseous again.
I kept a new barf bag near me…even while Super Sis and I were texting one another.
My picture followed her lovely picture that showed off her wearing the Origami Owl necklace I’d bought her last year for her birthday (or maybe Christmas…I cannot remember because her birthday is a couple of weeks after Christmas).
Her picture was prettier.
I kept the barf bag close by while I watched LSU beat up Florida…
As soon as the game was over, the Mr. helped me to the restroom one more time, and I settled in for the night.
I’d been staying awake later at night, but this girl was so very tired from fighting nausea all day that I had to give in to my heavy eyelids.
The only time I woke up was to take my pain meds, which I will not allow myself to get off track from.
If I could ask for specific prayers that I could begin using the restroom normally again, that my attempt to transition down from two pain pills to one would not lead to a lot of extra pain, and that I’d be able to resume eating again.
I am still #findingjoyinthejourney despite my most recent hiccup. God continues to be gracious to me, and I won’t allow this setback to set me off in anger.
I continue to be grateful as I watch blessings unfold from this unexpected life challenge.
God is so good. He loves me. He hears all prayers…even those that involve bathroom plumbing of the human kind.