Ok, it has been nine days since I broke my leg and I am quite a bit more upbeat than when I wrote my last blog. The beginning was rough because I wasn't sleeping, which made everything I had to do a much more emotional experience than was really necessary.
Monday I went to the orthopedic where I was given a walking cast. I can't walk on it yet, still have to use the crutches, but it was such a relief not to have a permanent hard cast. This one I can take off to shower or get dressed. I do have to leave it on all the rest of the time. It is really tempting to take it off at night because it is so heavy and bulky and hard to get comfortable in bed, but I have followed the rules and left it on.
Getting a walking cast really lifted my spirits. I worked all four days we had of school this week which I don't think I would have felt up to doing if they'd put me in a hard cast. My co-workers are so nice to me, helping me to do anything I need. Still, every day I came home REALLY exhausted and basically crashed on the couch until bed time. Crutching around the school is a lot of distance and really really wears me out. My students are really sweet about everything and really want to help me when they can.
I am a little concerned because as of last night, my leg and foot are still freakishly swollen. I don't know if this is normal or not, but I really feel like it should have gone down by now. The people I've talked to about it have suggested that I have probably been doing too much, which I know to be true. After an event I had yesterday (Sat) morning at school, I have done nothing. I'm still sitting around in sweats today and I'm going to keep my leg up and just be lazy until I have to go to work tomorrow morning. Hopefully this will help things improve.
So generally I feel good although I do HATE my crutches. I know that my injury is minor compared to things others have had to deal with and that I really have no right to be a baby about it. So, I will try to keep my spirits up, and I do really hope to be walking in my "walking cast" by the end of the week.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
I wanted a break... and I got one!!!
I wanted to have a break in my last blog. I whined about getting some time off.
Well I got it. Thursday and Friday we had "cold days" off from school. This was all great and peachy. I had plenty of time to get my work done and pack for my weekend trip.
AND THEN I BROKE MY LEG!!!
I loaded my car since Kelli called and was on her way. On my way in to get another armful, I slipped and fell on my lovely terra cotta tiles. I knew that I was hurt, but hoped that it wasn't as bad as I thought. As I lay on the floor wondering about the pain and the unevenness of my ceiling as I looked up at it, I didn't want anything to ruin my trip. I almost convinced myself that maybe it was just a sprain. I crawled through the house and pulled myself up on the couch. A few moments later, Kelli arrived. She loaded the car, and talked me through what we could do. We decided that instead of waiting to go to the hospital if we needed to in Louisville, that we would make a quick little stop into the Wooster ER.
After finding out that my leg was broken, filling my prescription for Vicodin, we went ahead and started our trip to Louisville.
Well I got it. Thursday and Friday we had "cold days" off from school. This was all great and peachy. I had plenty of time to get my work done and pack for my weekend trip.
AND THEN I BROKE MY LEG!!!
I loaded my car since Kelli called and was on her way. On my way in to get another armful, I slipped and fell on my lovely terra cotta tiles. I knew that I was hurt, but hoped that it wasn't as bad as I thought. As I lay on the floor wondering about the pain and the unevenness of my ceiling as I looked up at it, I didn't want anything to ruin my trip. I almost convinced myself that maybe it was just a sprain. I crawled through the house and pulled myself up on the couch. A few moments later, Kelli arrived. She loaded the car, and talked me through what we could do. We decided that instead of waiting to go to the hospital if we needed to in Louisville, that we would make a quick little stop into the Wooster ER.
After finding out that my leg was broken, filling my prescription for Vicodin, we went ahead and started our trip to Louisville.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Give me a snow day for crying out loud!
The week has gone like this:
Every morning I peep hopefully out my window. Nope. Not enough to call off school.
Yet, by the time I leave my house, there is enough snow to make the roads slippery and my drive into school a terrifying ordeal.
Then, around 1 o' clock, the snow starts to fall again so that we have awful drives home from school.
I arrive at my destination shaken up, but happily in one place without incident.
Until today.
It was snowing like crazy after school when I threw all my school stuff in my bag and headed out the door "before things get worse." The roads didn't seem too bad. There were no cars anywhere. The road appeared clear except for the powdery snow that fell and blew around. I cruised down 30 going faster than I've gone all week on the way home, almost reaching 50 mph. As I neared Wooster, I came over the crest of a hill and thought, "What in the world is that?" There appeared to be a giant rectangular object taking up the entire left and some of the right lanes. My first thought was that it looked like a train wreck. I tried to slow down. My car tried to stop, but the road was ICE. I jerked forward as my anti-lock breaks did their thing. It's a terrifying thing, not knowing whether you will ever actually slow down or come to a stop. I finally slowed as I neared the object, which turned out to be a big ole' wooster sanitation truck (garbage truck) flipped over on its side, and pressing through the guardrail. I slipped by in the small empty space between the truck and the few vehicles that had pulled off in the shoulder to help, but never did make it to a stop.
I feel like every drive I'm forced to make in this snow becomes more and more terrifying!
Seriously! What is the use of snow if it doesn't get me out of school for even a single day! One day! That's all I ask!!!
Snow is supposed to be a happy thing that brings a day off school! Come on!
Every morning I peep hopefully out my window. Nope. Not enough to call off school.
Yet, by the time I leave my house, there is enough snow to make the roads slippery and my drive into school a terrifying ordeal.
Then, around 1 o' clock, the snow starts to fall again so that we have awful drives home from school.
I arrive at my destination shaken up, but happily in one place without incident.
Until today.
It was snowing like crazy after school when I threw all my school stuff in my bag and headed out the door "before things get worse." The roads didn't seem too bad. There were no cars anywhere. The road appeared clear except for the powdery snow that fell and blew around. I cruised down 30 going faster than I've gone all week on the way home, almost reaching 50 mph. As I neared Wooster, I came over the crest of a hill and thought, "What in the world is that?" There appeared to be a giant rectangular object taking up the entire left and some of the right lanes. My first thought was that it looked like a train wreck. I tried to slow down. My car tried to stop, but the road was ICE. I jerked forward as my anti-lock breaks did their thing. It's a terrifying thing, not knowing whether you will ever actually slow down or come to a stop. I finally slowed as I neared the object, which turned out to be a big ole' wooster sanitation truck (garbage truck) flipped over on its side, and pressing through the guardrail. I slipped by in the small empty space between the truck and the few vehicles that had pulled off in the shoulder to help, but never did make it to a stop.
I feel like every drive I'm forced to make in this snow becomes more and more terrifying!
Seriously! What is the use of snow if it doesn't get me out of school for even a single day! One day! That's all I ask!!!
Snow is supposed to be a happy thing that brings a day off school! Come on!
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Gifts
Well, Christmas is almost over here. Not completely over because I can't seem to take down my Christmas tree or the lights outside on my porch. There are still two other houses with lights out on our street, so I don't feel too shamed yet.
The reason I want to write tonight is to tell about one of my Christmas presents. This year Gina returned some memories to me in the form of a shadow-box filled with the letters that I had written her in college. The box of course came with the stipulation that I am to copy the letters and return the originals. The letters were all written between 1997-1999 while I was in my 11-12 grades of school and Gina spent her first two years at Milligan. Reading the letters brought back so many memories as we read them aloud and laughed in our little group on Christmas Eve Eve. They told stories about friends, how I was feeling, who was doing what, who asked who out, what was going on in my family. Sara laughed and said, "It's almost like you were writing your boyfriend or something." I responded by telling Gina, "Hey, you may not have love letters from your college days, but you had me!"
I love the 16 and 17 year old me. I loved her honesty, her innocence, her pure love for her friends. I love how important the little things were. I love that she just poured herself out on pages to show love to others. The letters, which were written on my personalized stationary, flute notepad, and Hallmark cards, are filled with feelings of friendship, loss, love, humor, rejection, and faith expressed through stories about everyday going-ons, funny little antidotes, drawings, quotes, and song lyrics. These were the days when long-distance calls were expensive, so they were rare, before cell phones and e-mail made it easy to communicate. These were the days when it took effort to show someone you cared, and we took that effort. Sometimes the 16 year old me reveals that she is writing in study-hall or chemistry class because she just can't stop thinking about something and has to get it off her chest. Life was in Technicolor. It moved fast. It couldn't wait.
Maybe this is why I have chosen my profession. I love that age. I really care about my students as real people. They may be small people, but they are real people, maybe more real because they haven't learned to hide who they are like we grownups have. All their little problems are so relevant and real to them that my heart just can't help but empathize, because somewhere, deep inside, that 16 year old Carly is still there. While the letters were funny, and I mostly laughed, I sometimes felt sad as I remember the realness of some of the hurts mentioned in the letters. It just helps me to remember again, vividly, how hard it is to be young, and how easily those fragile hearts are injured.
What a treasure has been given to me. To see this snapshot of our lives taken over 10 years ago helps me really value the fact that I still have this important friendship. Although the business of life and some laziness has kept me from really loving my friends like I used to, I remember that it is possible and I also remember how good it feels to love.
The reason I want to write tonight is to tell about one of my Christmas presents. This year Gina returned some memories to me in the form of a shadow-box filled with the letters that I had written her in college. The box of course came with the stipulation that I am to copy the letters and return the originals. The letters were all written between 1997-1999 while I was in my 11-12 grades of school and Gina spent her first two years at Milligan. Reading the letters brought back so many memories as we read them aloud and laughed in our little group on Christmas Eve Eve. They told stories about friends, how I was feeling, who was doing what, who asked who out, what was going on in my family. Sara laughed and said, "It's almost like you were writing your boyfriend or something." I responded by telling Gina, "Hey, you may not have love letters from your college days, but you had me!"
I love the 16 and 17 year old me. I loved her honesty, her innocence, her pure love for her friends. I love how important the little things were. I love that she just poured herself out on pages to show love to others. The letters, which were written on my personalized stationary, flute notepad, and Hallmark cards, are filled with feelings of friendship, loss, love, humor, rejection, and faith expressed through stories about everyday going-ons, funny little antidotes, drawings, quotes, and song lyrics. These were the days when long-distance calls were expensive, so they were rare, before cell phones and e-mail made it easy to communicate. These were the days when it took effort to show someone you cared, and we took that effort. Sometimes the 16 year old me reveals that she is writing in study-hall or chemistry class because she just can't stop thinking about something and has to get it off her chest. Life was in Technicolor. It moved fast. It couldn't wait.
Maybe this is why I have chosen my profession. I love that age. I really care about my students as real people. They may be small people, but they are real people, maybe more real because they haven't learned to hide who they are like we grownups have. All their little problems are so relevant and real to them that my heart just can't help but empathize, because somewhere, deep inside, that 16 year old Carly is still there. While the letters were funny, and I mostly laughed, I sometimes felt sad as I remember the realness of some of the hurts mentioned in the letters. It just helps me to remember again, vividly, how hard it is to be young, and how easily those fragile hearts are injured.
What a treasure has been given to me. To see this snapshot of our lives taken over 10 years ago helps me really value the fact that I still have this important friendship. Although the business of life and some laziness has kept me from really loving my friends like I used to, I remember that it is possible and I also remember how good it feels to love.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
.JPG)
