Achilles and the 90 Degrees of Torture

Achilles and the 90 Degrees of Torture

Holy living FreaK! Jee-flippin Aaargh gack flicko for the love of Soupy sALes! And dare I say FUCKIN A THIS HURTS! I wish I could make you all feel this pain a little bit. Not because I loathe all of you, but just so you could understand some of the crap that comes out of my fingertips! Hookie Hookie damN!! See, I’ll recap, since a few of you may be lost:

I got the surgery last Wednesday and I had my foot in a cast since then. My foot was angled at about 115 degrees in the plaster cast, which was the resting rate of my other foot. OK. Cool. Then they chopped off the cast today and put me back in the brace. At 90 degrees! They just took my foot with my brand spankin new tendon in it, which hasn’t moved at all in over a week, and shoved it back with all their might, despite the violent ear-piercing cries the 9-year-old schoolgirl in me was letting out at the time. I mean, can’t they at least give me one intermediate step or something? I don’t think they know what the hell they’re doing. Oh, but guess how many staples I had in my leg? Tell you what, write me back with your guess, and if you get it right, I’ll give you one! Sorry just one, but I’m saving the other 17 for family.

Upon having heard about my condition when it first happened…

Quote Of the Day 8/30/00

“The ankle? Again? It’s always the ankle. Except when it’s the knee. Or the shoulder. Or the bersa sac…”

-Russel the two-legged.

I think that about covers all of em. Except that occasional raspberry up around my ass, but I don’t like to talk about them too often.

Love, percaset, and an ice bag thing,

Crutch.

Still Stranded Right Here…

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