Got the news from the doctor, and I will be having a pin put in my leg. Which means, oh, joy, I get to have surgery. I cannot put into words how thrilled this makes me. On the bright side, the doctor seems to think that it should be fairly cut and dried, so to speak. He was a doctor at a trauma center for some time, and said that he did like two of these a week for several years, so I feel a... bit... more confident. Now if I could just find that blasted time machine and go back to Sunday Morning, and skip this whole mess, I would feel even better. But, somehow, I don't believe that will happen.
I hope this short blog is legible. The stoopid part? The doctor prescribed the lowest dose of a "narcotic" (Vicodin, I think, just the generic version kind), but I still feel like someone stuck a wad of cotton in my brain. Everything is slow, and takes about as much time to think what I need to say, as to say it. I also feel like I am going to doze off at any minute. The doctor kept saying, oh, you need to take two of these, at the ER. I finally negotiated him down to one. When he saw how utterly goofy I was getting, he recommended to Husband that I take... a half a pill.
I told him I didn't do meds much... He figured it out, I think. As did the nurse, and at least one billing person that called. I don't think it's particularly fair to have to do hard thinking when you have half your mind floating somewhere above your head.
And if this blog seems good and makes sense, I thank spell check, and Mom who pre read it for coherency.
Tomorrow WILL be interesting.