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Don’t Quit Your Day Job

I’m thinking of painting a room in my house the shade of Lyle’s leg – eggplant, such a calming color. I have a feeling we are going to get to see a few more color swatches before we make our final decision. The blood is starting to break loose and I see hints of green and yellow appear. I don’t think either of those colors make any better options, and from the looks of things, Lyle isn’t gonna be climbing up on a ladder any time soon to take care of the trimming.

I feel really sorry for him, which is a good thing because Thursday I was trying to figure out ways to throw him down over the railing of our second-story deck without injuring myself in the process. He was extremely squirrely from the confinement and I was really tired of being Nurse Ratched, not a good combination.

I love my guy dearly, but as much grief as he gives me about being a control freak, he’s got a few issues to work out in that area as well. I know the miserable state of being confined. I was on total bed rest when I was pregnant with Russell; I tore an ACL skiing and then I buggered up my ankle playing volley ball. All required extended solitary confinement. People only think it would be fun to drop out of society for weeks on end and lay on the couch. That’s only true if you can walk across the room and get your own pint of Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey or Chubby Hubby.

I don’t make a good patient and worse yet, I don’t make a good nurse. I admit, I thought it would be good for Lyle to experience things on the other side of the bedpan. I distinctly remember his nursing skills also left much to be desired. I specifically recall a morning when he refused to get me ice (on my timetable) because he didn’t think it was time.

“You don’t need THAT right now so you just stop worrying about it,” was something I heard on more occasions than I felt necessary.

“Get me my freaking bag of ice or I’ll….” What? Throw my crutch in your general vicinity. Let me know how that works for you.

I’d like to say that I assumed my new role with grace and dignity and compassion that Mother Theresa would be proud of. Not so much. With each passing moment, I found myself taking notes to send to Stephen King for take two of Misery. I only thought Kathy Bates deserved the Oscar for her portrayal of the loon in the movie. Hell, maybe she had a convalescing partner at home to draw from. The only part that I can’t figure out now is WHY she would actually want to KEEP James Caan in bed. She must have had way more Percocet that we did.

We had a horrible break down on Thursday when I was trying to work from home. We reassembled, thankfully before anyone was carted off to the hoosegow. By the end of the day, Lyle was getting around well enough that we all decided it was best that Russell assume nursemaid so I could go back to the office yesterday.

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One Response

  1. I have to comment. Melissa ended up with freezer burn because I complied with her unending request for more ice (1am, 3am, 5am who was looking at clock anymore). I know she does not agree, but I was not near so demanding, impatient or just plain mean. It has been hard for me to sit still and try to mend.

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