The Shower

Today, I took a shower.

It was a major event and one that I shan’t likely repeat anytime soon.

First of all, my leg must remain straight at all times.  I have an incision on my quad muscle and it cannot come apart.  This makes taking clothes on and off tricky-ish.  David suggested that I wear the brace in the shower, which I felt was a solid plan.  So, Daisy Mae was within yelling distance and David went out to worm and castrate pigs, as all men do on a Sunday.  And I was going to take a shower.

I unwrapped my leg and tried to not faint.  This was my first time seeing the atrocities that happened to my leg.  I will spare you the picture.  Because, the horror.

After much pomp and circumstance, I was able to get in and out of the shower all by myself, but needed David to help me re-wrap the leg.  He came in and said I should probably wait for the leg to air dry a bit.  This sounded reasonable coming from a man who just removed a pig’s ability to procreate.  Surely, he must know a thing or two about life.  David left again, presumably to ruin more pigs’ days, and I was faced with the daunting task of putting fresh underwear on.

Since Thursday, I basically have not moved.  I am maybe burning 4 calories per day.

Maybe.

Putting underwear on is a new workout activity for me, burning no less than 754 calories a minute.

I was slightly successful.

However, when I tried to sit back up, I kinda forgot to not use my quad muscle, and it felt like my entire thigh area ripped in two.

So, then I just sat there.  Crying.  Again, like a champ.  I had to alert Daisy Mae to go and get Farmer Bob from his pig-ventures and come and help me.

He came back in and I told him we had to get the brace back on quickly.

Me:  I sat up and used my muscle and it felt like my incision ripped apart.

David:  It doesn’t look ripped apart.

David does not understand that I am currently not interested in the facts.  I am interested in him feeling badly for me and just letting me have a moment.

And then it was time for pants.

I need to wear large pants so they will fit easily over the brace.  I have already used up both of David’s large pajama pants, so I had to dip into the supply of pajama pants from MY DAD that Ma had sent over.

It was a new low point in my life: me, whimpering like a baby, while my husband, smelling of pig manure, tried to maneuver my dad’s pajamas pants up on me.

Taylor.  Winning.

So, that whole event took me about an hour to recover from.  And then one of my many children came in to ask me for help writing an essay.

Me:  No, I don’t want to write an essay!  I am too groggy from pain medicine.

Child:  Please!

Me:  Oh, man.

Child:  What?

Me:  This just all makes me so sad.

Child:  Why?

Me:  Well, my knee hurts, so that is making me sad.  And the way you spelled double is making me sad.

So, I have been in homework jail for most of the afternoon.  Although, I am pretty sure I am not much help.  Seeing as how I just randomly drift off to sleep.

And that was today.

Sunday’s list of accomplishments: I showered and kind of put underwear on.

Here’s to hoping Monday will be more successful.