Sometimes you just have to go. Which, when on the road during a global pandemic, can be a challenge.
Yesterday the husband had to physically enter his office for the first time since March to pick up some paperwork, so we took the scenic route which added a half hour to the hour long drive. The sun was shining, the leaves were turning…. life was good. Until those 2 large glasses of iced tea I had with lunch kicked in.
I don’t know what’s it like in your part if the world, but here in Maine a lot of the convenience stores, gas stations and fast food places have closed their rest rooms to customers for fear of spreading the virus.
It took us 4 stops to find a Burger King that welcomed people with full bladders. And by the look of the pictures on the doors? I wasn’t the only one in dire need.
I walked into the barn this morning to find my husband working on a template.
.
.
And yes, I cringed.
.
.
Having finished one side of the strapping on the ceiling and running out of that particular wood, he decided it was time to trim the windows.
.
.
And while I applauded the fact he was actually going to corner them properly, I knew it wouldn’t be smooth sailing.
.
.
One day.
.
.
One entire day to frame two windows … because he added quarter round.
Why did he add quarter round you ask?
.
.
Because when he first built this barn to be a… you know, barn? …there were giant gaps around the windows and nothing was air tight. Who was going to complain…. the lawn mowers?
.
.
But now that’s it morphed into a palatial man cave, gaps must be sealed.
.
.
And live ordinance moved.
.
.
Framing on the outside, quarter round on the inside, and extra quarter round on the top corners…. all because he didn’t install the windows correctly the first time.
Have you ever sat on an orthopedist’s table watching an ultra sound monitor as they stick a foot long red hot poker in your knee?
No? Well, I did yesterday morning… and oddly enough I don’t recommend it.
First it was a shot of lidocaine… which I can only describe as being injected with molten hot lava.
.
.
Yes, exactly like that.
Holy water? Pfft. Lidocaine’s got that beat hands down… and it was only the appetizer.
A minute later the big gun came out. Cortisone, to aid in pain relief and reduce inflammation from my deep root meniscus tear.
Pain relief? After a week of beached whale status on the couch I said bring it!
Holy mother of God. I’ve had cortisone shots before, but never in a deep rooted knee injury. And let me tell you, I never want to have one there again.
I realize that screaming isn’t the best thing to do in a doctors office as it tends to make the people in the waiting room uncomfortable, but damn. I couldn’t help it. That needle kept going in, and in, and in …
.
.
Lying bastards.
I yelped upon entry. (Lidocaine, you suck and didn’t dull a thing.)
I squealed when it was halfway there. (Numbing agent my ass.)
And when that foot long bastard finally got to where it needed to be? I think I was crying for my late mother.
And mind you, I’m the high pain tolerant girl who recovered from a full abdominal hysterectomy with no morphine or fentanyl because I’m narcotic resistant.
So did this torture session offer pain relief? My knee felt a little better later that afternoon.. but I woke up in the middle of the night with throbbing and swelling where I didn’t have it before. So now I’m dealing with the “temporary pain and inflammation at the injection site for 48 hours” that only a few lucky people experience.
My MRI was today… and after they made me strip naked and dress in scrub pants that were 3 sizes too small and double hospital johnnys that were 12 sizes too big, they did their thing on my knee.
A solid half hour of cacophony later, I got a souvenir.
.
.
I know they give you ultrasound pictures of your baby in utero, but I’m not sure I’ll be having a look at all the fluid on River’s knee reveal party anytime soon.
And yes, though I’ve gotten the swelling down with elevation and ice packs, there’s still a lot of fluid where fluid shouldn’t be.
Good news? No torn ligaments and minimal damage to my MCL.
Yay!
.
.
Bad news?
My meniscus tear is a deep root tear which is more serious, slower to heal and could require surgery.
Boo.
.
.
But I did a zoom meeting with my orthopedist when we got home and she said we’ll try to avoid that.
More ice, more exercises and a cortisone shot next Friday to speed up healing so I can do more load bearing.
Load bearing? I know I’m a bit overweight, but that seems a trifle harsh.
I elevate, ice, read, and groan every time I have to move. Not how I envisioned spending my favorite time of year.
The foliage is peak, the temperatures are blissfully cool and I’m stranded on the couch like a beached Beluga.
There are very few good things to report when you’ve torn your meniscus and damaged your MCL, but one must take solace where one can.
.
.
My husband feeling guilty for his mobility and finally installing the new blinds in the office? The ones that have been sitting next to his desk for the last 3 months?
.
.
My husband breaking the special order extra wide curtain rod for my Waverly valance after I told him to be careful because they’re tricky to take down? Because he has no patience for anything the least bit domestic and never thinks I know what I’m talking about? Because he was cursing a blue streak as he tried to tape it back together?
Solace for a couch bound whale wife.
.
.
Please excuse the 2 six packs, 5 bottles of wine and the jug of premixed cherry limeade margaritas in the corner.
My liquor cabinet is full… and Jeff Bezos can only do so much.
.
Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.