Home-sick

I saw my surgeon's nurse yesterday. He took a look at my incisions and thought they were healing nicely. I was cleared to not see my surgeon for four weeks. At that time I'll have X-rays taken and will meet with my actual surgeon to hear how he feels things are going.

I feel useless. Since I can't put any weight on my right leg and thus need to use a walker to go anywhere. That makes it virtually impossible to carry anything. So that means I rely on assistance for everything. I can't really cook, I can't do much cleaning, I can't do laundry, I can't take care of Baxter. In addition I haven't left my apartment except for clinic appointments. It is exhausting moving from my front door to the exterior of my building into a car, I couldn't imagine going someplace without using a wheelchair, like at my clinic appointments. So I don't go out; people need to come to me to visit.

I spend my days laying on the couch, watching the same shows from day to day on tv, and sleeping. I feel so useless, lonely, and trapped. I wish I could walk and get out of here. So I could resume my normal life.

It's gonna be a long four weeks.

Back in the Saddle... Figuratively, Of Course

So I've decided that I need to resume writing this blog. I know I've said that before but this time I really mean it.

As I sit here in clinic I've decided that I'm going to tell people I have a broken leg. Broken hips are for senior citizens. Since I'm not in my 60s yet it seems more appropriate I call it a broken leg. It's the truth, technically, since hips are on femurs. Plus the entirety of the implanted metal is in my femur.

Broken leg, not broken hip. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.