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Broken Hearts, Brains and Bones

Updated: Apr 19, 2020

Here’s a useful story about a brilliant person with a dysfunctional heritage and brain that is not neurotypical. You need not be dysfunctional to enjoy.

Yesterday, after a sleepless night from the pain in my foot, I had lived my regular life. Including teaching a yoga class from the mat less than an hour after my injury and accompanying my beloved to an early morning procedure where he went under anesthesia (he’s fine) along with all the other things, having a crushed great toe on my dominant foot. I drove myself to the good Dr. Not a big deal. I did not know it was crushed. It was just looking scary so I thought I’d have it checked out before the weekend.

I walked up a flight of stairs to get to the office. Once settled in the examination room I took the black toenail polish off myself, even though it hurt like a mother, and then walked up and down the hall in my flip flops to get XRays. I stepped up, turned around and even wiggled my toes for the sweetest Nurse. The good Dr found the toe bone is crushed at the top and the nail had to be removed. This news caused great anxiety. I used my yogic breath along with prayer to get through the four shots that had to be moved around inside my foot to deaden it for the procedure. I told myself I was fine. I breathed through the procedure and tried to pay attention to the instructions, including to remove the required boot to drive home (and not drive anywhere else) since I had driven myself. I could have called for help and Mr. W even tried to come get me. His procedure that morning had rendered him not allowed to drive even though he felt fine, who am I to ask him to break the rules. I said no.

I drove home and he cared for me all evening including a traumatic and messy bandage change that made me physically sick and  led me to bed for the night. I woke up twice and hobbled to the recommended Tylenol. Friends, this hurts. Like for real. Today the bandage change went even worse. Much more messy, and pain worse than childbirth with no intervention.

I know.

I’ve done it.

I called the good Dr in the midst of this, after some time they called in a prescription. Mr. W rushed off to get it, scarred from seeing his one true love in so much pain.

Here’s the message.

Had I a different childhood with no drug abuse from adults I trusted,  and had I a typical brain more capable of consistent good judgement, or had Mr. W been there with his consistent good judgement; we would have asked for a prescription in case we needed it. I did not, because I thought my judgement was not as good as the hallway Nurse who said I would be numb for up to 8 hours and Tylenol would be sufficient. By the time I realized how bad this really was it was too late. I suffered, he suffered. And for what? I should have asked for a prescription in case we needed it. I did not because I thought my judgement was not as good as the hallway Nurse. She has higher education so she obviously knows. Can’t have people that know I’m nuts (they have my chart) think I’m a drug abuser too! By the time I got down the stairs and removed my boot to drive home, my foot was throbbing and I was in a fair amount of pain. Turns out crushed bones cause more pain than just the spot that’s crushed. The messed up nerves make sure you have fire all the way up your leg. It was much more pain than I should have been in based on the information I had been given. I made it through the night but just barely. Today was a nightmare and I should have done a better job of communicating my very real feelings, true or not, instead of relying on someone else’s experience and judgement.

TRUST YOURSELF. You know more than you think you do.-Dr.Spock

Ask for the meds if you think you might need them. Tell the people the truth about what you are feeling even though you may not think they are valid. Don’t be too tough for your own good. I tell people everyday, literally everyday, we are all in this together.

It’s time I act like it.

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