I'd have no luck at all, as the old saying goes.
After eight long, dreary weeks of coughing and exhaustion, I was finally able to start really working on my new room again ... for two days. On the third morning, I tripped over the suddenly-underfoot cat and smashed my elbow into a door frame. Ice didn't help, heat didn't help, OTC painkillers didn't help, and after a while I could feel/hear bits of bone grating and realized I'd actually broken something, so Tuesday morning last week I gave in and went to Emergency. At 6:00 a.m., figuring I'd have plenty of time to get the elbow seen to and still make my 9:30 a.m. workshop at the career centre.
Not so much.
I told the triage nurse at 6:00 a.m. that I'd broken my elbow. So without anything to eat or drink or dull the pain - "Oh, no, nothing by mouth, in case it might need surgery" - the doctor sent me for x-rays, after writing up an order for an IV with one of the pain meds I had just told him I'm severely allergic to. And for the next twelve hours he could not be found, and apparently it's against some unwritten rule for another doctor to change the first doctor's written meds orders. So while I sat there in tears from the pain, the doctor vanished. Six hours later, he called the nurses' desk to say they should send me for an ultrasound. He did not, apparently, feel any need to change the pain meds order he'd written, even though if they had given me the stuff it could have killed me ... Four hours after that, they finally actually sent me to Ultrasound, where they stuck a lot of huge needles into the joint and found no fluid or infection. Finally, they decided to do a CT scan and then I was taken back to Emergency - still unfed, perishing of thirst, and in unbelievable pain - where the doctor wandered through, was surprised to see me still there, and sent the orthopedic surgeon to look at the CT scan and tell me that Guess what? I've broken my elbow! At that point, I'm afraid I may have sounded a little caustic when I replied that I knew that, I'd said so when I came in twelve hours ago.
So here I am in a fibreglass cast - at least it's not twenty pounds of plaster! - and enormously frustrated by how little I can do and how long it takes to do it. I see the orthopedic surgeon again on April 12th, at which time he will decide if the elbow is healing fine on its own or whether it will need surgery.
But ... this coming weekend will include two moves and a family birthday. And the following weekend a good friend friend arrives from far away for a two-week visit. And though I'm not expected to help with the moves, I do need to come up with a decent birthday gift for J and get the new guest room ready for S's arrival.
Big Guy got called back to work this week. Much rejoicing, but also a large upswing in my frustration level, since he will no longer be helping me with anything in the house and expects me to cook every night since I'm not working. Even something as simple as a one-pot casserole takes forever one-handed, and I can't even pick up the heavy cast-iron pots and frypans ... well, if he's not happy with whatever meals I can manage, he can just cook his own supper! Honestly, I'm not looking for sympathy, but a little understanding of how difficult things are for me right now wouldn't hurt my feelings.
* * * * * *
On the up side - I'm happy to report a week (well, nine days, actually) with zero food wasted and, except for the prescription painkillers that Blue Cross paid most of, zero money spent by me. How's that for frugal?