Scarlet Letters

The not-so-private thoughts and rants of Elizabeth Donald, journalist/author and founder of the Literary Underworld.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Have a little cheese...

Warning: I am about to whiiiiiine.

I am SICK AND TIRED of my leg.

I'm tired of not being able to go up to my office without a giant production number. I'm tired of hurting after I'm on my feet ten minutes. I'm tired of my wobbly knee randomly giving out without warning and making me grab something fast to keep from falling. I'm tired of hobbling up and down stairs like a ninety-year-old woman. I'm tired of the itchy stupid brace that won't stay where it's supposed to and has to be restrapped every half hour or it becomes useless. I'm tired of forgetting and standing up too fast, feeling the wrench and having to sit down real fast.

It's been a week and a half and it should be better by now, since it isn't frigging broken. "A real bad wrench" is what the doc called it. She said I had to be on restricted duty for a week. That expired four days ago. This is ridiculous.

I know, perspective, anyone with real injuries or disabilities is rolling their eyes hard enough to give themselves a migraine. That's why this is pure selfish whining.

I have things to do, dammit. Work. Cleaning. Shopping. Stuff.

Dear leg: Shut the hell up and get better.
No love, The Whiner.

1 Comments:

Blogger Angelia Sparrow said...

Hey, You HURT. You are inconvenienced, interrupted and feeling not only a little foolish but a bit of a burden.

Sometimes whining is all you have.
The weather is changing. It's in my hands. And like I do every fall, I wonder how many more autumns I have before typing becomes to painful I can't write books anymore.

Sure, there are people who have it worse. But these are MY hands, dammit and they hurt too. And it's Your Knee, dammit and it hurts. Comparative disability is a no-winner game. Do not minimize your own body signals because of someone else's difficulties.

12:10 PM  

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