So,
I don't quite know where this stuff will fit in, but I feel it's appropriate to include.
This is how things have happened in my life in 2009.
Good: May 11, Turn 20, have an excellent birthday party, meet some attractive pilots.
Bad: 2 weeks later get severe chest pain and short of breath, assume it is a chest infection, head to A&E to make sure.
Good: After waiting be told that it is indeed a chest infection, go home take some Neurofen and it should clear up.
Bad: 2am, wake in such pain and shortness of breath that I am rushed to A&E again, a broken rib is suspected.
Good: No broken rib, probably just a pulled muscle in my rib cage, advised to take more Neurofen.
Bad: Pain persists, 3rd trip to hospital, wait 8 hours in severe pain to see doctor in A&E.
Good: ish, told that it is not a chest infection, but suspected blood clot, given a blood thinning injection and booked in to have further testing to determine cause of pain.
Bad: Radioactive dye is injected and inhaled to determine whether or not I have a pulmonary embolus.
Good: source of pain disocovered.
Bad: Large, potentially life threatening, blood clots in my lungs.
Good: Finally admitted to hospital.
Bad: Told that I can never be on the pill, or drink alcohol for the next 6 months.
Good: Start getting treatment, take recovery seriously
Bad: Start going out again, give into temptation of alcohol
Good: Have amazing nights out
Bad: All amazing nights are more drunken than I have had in years
Good: SPLENDOUR IN THE GRASS
Bad: meet a boy that I can't get my mind off, knowing that he has quickly taken his mind off me
Good: settle into normality, step up drunken nights to every weekend.
Bad: Fall over in front of rugby team
Good: PARKLIFE
Bad: Losing friend for 8 hours at Parklife
Good: Organise New Zealand trip, booking flights, tour and accommodation
Bad: Uni stress and exams
Good: Finish uni for the year
Bad: BREAK ANKLE!!!
Bad: Told that I will have a cast for 6 weeks
Bad: Told that I will not be able to walk properly even after cast comes off
Bad: Told that there is real concern as to whether or not I am able to go to New Zealand
Bad: Drop iPhone in sink, destroy the one thing keeping me sane and connected to the outside world
Bad: Miss out on Trackside, Foreshore, Bag Raiders
Good: Begin to appreciate the good times
Good: spend plenty of quality time with Mum and Dad
Good: Building excellent upper body strength and getting really good on crutches
Good: head out for the first time for my dear friend's birthday, enjoy a nice meal out, fool people into thinking I am able bodied, stay out until 2 am.
Good: Stop drinking; at least for the time being, I think this is the way I am being told, or subconsciously telling myself, to slow down.
Good: get totally, pathetically, obsessed with Twilight series, join team Jacob.
Good: take time to really organise things and make the most of the time that I have.
So,
This year, since May, has been up and down. But really I think this injury is not all bad. I truly do appreciate the time it has given me, and although I am poor due to lost earnings, I am en"rich"ing my soul. Or something like that
- L
Saturday, December 12, 2009
1 - Misson Statement and Backstory
So,
I've broken my leg. My right fibula at the ankle to be specific. I am crippled and house bound. I have had weeks in which I have not left the house except for doctors appointments. Days and days spent indoors switching between the comfort of bed and lounge. This has left a lot of time to think, read, watch TV and generally nurture my mild neuroses.
I have established this as an account of my time spent at home, as I never intend to spend this much time indoors ever again. I hope to write witty observations of the world from the comfort of my lounge room, I probably will fall short. Falling seems to be something that I do quite well.
And with that well placed segue, we come to the fall that has placed me in this predicament.
Basically it comes down to excess consumption of alcohol, combined with a general lack of co-ordination at the best, most sober, of times. I fell, not spectacularly, on flat ground, in flat shoes, in an all but deserted club. I say not spectacularly because I have had many falls in my 20 years. A nice scar on my eyebrow, completely interrupting its shape, resulting from a spill on to the corner of a tallboy when I was 2. Scars on my knees from playground scrapes. I then went into a period of self preservation, with no serious falls to speak of, until I discovered alcohol. Between 15 and 20 I have had numerous trips, stumbles, sprains and twists, most of which I have been able to bounce back from without much hassle.
In the past 6 months, however, I have had several seriously ego-damaging trips. This includes one in which I fell face first in the middle of a crowd of professional rugby players, and my best friend defended my honour and my lack of co-ordination by accusing one of the men of pushing me over. He was flabbergasted, until she let him in on the charade, and he agreed to play along. I am certain we fooled no one and I had a bruise on my left hip the size and colour of an eggplant for weeks.
This most recent, and most detrimental fall, seemed like a simple slip. Nothing unusual for me. It was when I immediately screamed in pain, beginning to "cry like a baby" that signalled something was indeed unusual. Not to my nearest and dearest though. I was convinced by them that I was not crying due to the pain in my leg, but due to some other reason. I agreed with this logic and proceeded to tell them my inner most feelings for a friend, including the fact that I am in love with him. This, we now know are the babblings of a drunk girl with a snapped fibula attempting to justify the tears flowing freely while crouching on a gutter.
It was 40 hours before I received appropriate medical attention. I was convinced it was a sprain.
I was informed it was a break and I would require a half leg cast for 4-6 weeks. It is a this moment that the situation becomes particularly pointy. Exactly 5 weeks and 6 days from the date of the break I am going to New Zealand for a 2 week Contiki tour, ending with the Big Day Out in Auckland. I cannot possibly have a cast at this time.
This is where this publication comes in. 3 weeks into wearing a cast I am crazy-bored, calci-loading and reconnecting with God, The Universe, Mother Nature in the hopes that I can have a relatively well-healed ankle by the 30th of December 2009 when I am due to have my final x-ray, my cast removed and the doctors tell me that I am a medical miracle with no evidence of a break at all.
In the interim I am trying sobriety, getting my life in 2010 pre-organised, resting a lot, attempting to socialise from home, and writing in this Journal.
So here's to trying new things, learning to be in my own company, and generally figuring out how to occupy myself! Hooray!
- L
I've broken my leg. My right fibula at the ankle to be specific. I am crippled and house bound. I have had weeks in which I have not left the house except for doctors appointments. Days and days spent indoors switching between the comfort of bed and lounge. This has left a lot of time to think, read, watch TV and generally nurture my mild neuroses.
I have established this as an account of my time spent at home, as I never intend to spend this much time indoors ever again. I hope to write witty observations of the world from the comfort of my lounge room, I probably will fall short. Falling seems to be something that I do quite well.
And with that well placed segue, we come to the fall that has placed me in this predicament.
Basically it comes down to excess consumption of alcohol, combined with a general lack of co-ordination at the best, most sober, of times. I fell, not spectacularly, on flat ground, in flat shoes, in an all but deserted club. I say not spectacularly because I have had many falls in my 20 years. A nice scar on my eyebrow, completely interrupting its shape, resulting from a spill on to the corner of a tallboy when I was 2. Scars on my knees from playground scrapes. I then went into a period of self preservation, with no serious falls to speak of, until I discovered alcohol. Between 15 and 20 I have had numerous trips, stumbles, sprains and twists, most of which I have been able to bounce back from without much hassle.
In the past 6 months, however, I have had several seriously ego-damaging trips. This includes one in which I fell face first in the middle of a crowd of professional rugby players, and my best friend defended my honour and my lack of co-ordination by accusing one of the men of pushing me over. He was flabbergasted, until she let him in on the charade, and he agreed to play along. I am certain we fooled no one and I had a bruise on my left hip the size and colour of an eggplant for weeks.
This most recent, and most detrimental fall, seemed like a simple slip. Nothing unusual for me. It was when I immediately screamed in pain, beginning to "cry like a baby" that signalled something was indeed unusual. Not to my nearest and dearest though. I was convinced by them that I was not crying due to the pain in my leg, but due to some other reason. I agreed with this logic and proceeded to tell them my inner most feelings for a friend, including the fact that I am in love with him. This, we now know are the babblings of a drunk girl with a snapped fibula attempting to justify the tears flowing freely while crouching on a gutter.
It was 40 hours before I received appropriate medical attention. I was convinced it was a sprain.
I was informed it was a break and I would require a half leg cast for 4-6 weeks. It is a this moment that the situation becomes particularly pointy. Exactly 5 weeks and 6 days from the date of the break I am going to New Zealand for a 2 week Contiki tour, ending with the Big Day Out in Auckland. I cannot possibly have a cast at this time.
This is where this publication comes in. 3 weeks into wearing a cast I am crazy-bored, calci-loading and reconnecting with God, The Universe, Mother Nature in the hopes that I can have a relatively well-healed ankle by the 30th of December 2009 when I am due to have my final x-ray, my cast removed and the doctors tell me that I am a medical miracle with no evidence of a break at all.
In the interim I am trying sobriety, getting my life in 2010 pre-organised, resting a lot, attempting to socialise from home, and writing in this Journal.
So here's to trying new things, learning to be in my own company, and generally figuring out how to occupy myself! Hooray!
- L
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