lil bits

Sad. Two weeks have past. I made this blog to get everything out of my head when I need it out but sometimes I'm afraid of facing what's in my head long enough to get it out.

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We called the child victim line to get more information on what we can do for Alex and we were told we have to wait until he has a visible mark. Which means we cant do anything. Yet. Alex will start getting baths the moment he gets home so we can see every inch of him.

There are no words to describe how it feels knowing what is happening and not able to stop it. Yet.

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Dave's surgery affected us in ways neither of us expected. He started going to bed with me and waking up with me during the few days he was forced to take it easy. Turns out he really likes it and has changed his schedule to match mine. The last time we kept the same schedule for more than a couple of days was right after we were married.

So this is what its supposed to feel like... I like it.

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This weekend we went for our first family bike ride. It felt picture perfect. Alex surprised the shit out of me and pushed us into going further than we planned on taking him. The kid went a little over 3 miles on Saturday. I'm so proud of his tired little legs. Turns out the wide bike path was just what he wanted. Flat and fast.

Olivia is in love with her bike trailer. She kicked back, propped her feet up and yelled to go faster. She should try pedaling if she wants to go faster.

The next day Alex was begging to go on another ride we we hopped on a different path where we would be shaded most of the way.

I nutted up, gave up the security of the treadmill and went head to head with Dave and the kids. I ran, they biked.

3.3 miles and I kicked their asses. :)

Oh and by the way...
Fuck you foot.
I win.

redirected frustrations

I've written and edited and edited and edited then finally deleted a couple of posts. All fluffy shit about how wonderful the garden is and how great life is but really I'm mad and scared and I cant stand how stupid and fake I sounded.

Tomorrow is the big V day. Dave is getting a vasectomy and I'm still a fence sitter. I'm not sure why I'm still debating. I think I have enough to handle right now and a baby plus all of the hormones that goes with it would push me over the edge.

Maybe I just don't like being told I'm done. I don't know.

Maybe its that I have no control over Alex's future and wanting another baby would be yet another way of trying to feel like I have control over something.

Maybe I would feel better if I had known that Olivia would be my only pregnancy.

Then I tell myself to shut the fuck up and be grateful that I have two kids and no stretch marks.

I'm also over the top worried about Alex whenever he is not at home. Alex let something slip while talking to the ED about belt spankings. When Dave questioned her about it she openly admitted she uses a belt to punish Alex and her other kid.

Her reasoning was "I'm too small, too tired, and my hands aren't heavy enough"

Her hands aren't heavy enough to hit a kid... I wonder how long it would take her say "uncle" if she was on the receiving end of the belt.

Dave tried to gently talk to Alex asking him about it and to let him know that it isn't OK to be hit with a belt and to please let us know if she does it again. His response was a generic preformed answer that sounded just like the ED. I think she's threatening him not to tell us.

It kills me that he will have to be hurt again AND have proof of it before we can do anything about it.

My frustrations are being taken out on yardwork, landscaping and running.

Good news is the house is looking awesome. Bad news is I'm having to admit I'm NOT the bionic woman and my foot can (and will) slow me down. I'm not 100% yet and mornings like this morning make it pretty evident that I need to take it down a notch.

maintenance

We're being put on a maintenance schedule because Alex is doing so well in his therapy.

Good right?

except it PISSES ME OFF.

I have always looked for some way to take the ED back to court AND win full custody. I really hoped this lady could help us with the custody aspect as well as helping Alex manage his feelings.

The second therapy session she sat in front of me and told me it was obvious to her that he doesn't want to be with the ED and that she could help us in court. How is she helping if we're seeing her every 4-6 weeks?

I thought a door had magically opened for us and that we found the yellow brick road that led directly to a win in court. Looks like that door has closed and I am back at square one knowing the only chance we have is if the ED really screws up and starts dealing drugs out of the house or we find physical evidence of abuse.

As I let my hope grow, I became more and more patient with the situation telling myself it was only a matter of time. We are stuck in the same ol' fucking cycle and going nowhere.

I will give the therapist credit for gently pointing me and Dave in the right direction. We are remaining calm instead of reacting to his anger with anger and Alex has been vocalizing his feelings more.

The transition between the houses is still just as difficult. Alex is now starting the process with trying to negotiate staying with us longer before he moves to tears.

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I did get to see the foot doctor again this morning and I walked out of that 5 minute appointment in a much better mood. Not only did I get the OK to start walking for exercise but I also got to shed the guilty feeling for being an ASSHAT the last time I was there.

(Its the good ol Catholic upbringing that helps me hold on to my guilty feelings for so long.)

The foot dr walked in and I didn't give him a chance to say anything before I was apologizing profusely. Apparently I wasn't as rude as I gave myself credit for... I'll have to work on that for the next appointment in another 6 weeks.

pound the crazy out.

The foot doc must think I'm insane. He told me exactly what I expected to hear and I still burst into tears...

I quit wearing the fugly boot about a week ago. I hit the limit of my tolerance and couldn't bring myself to put it back on. I went the 6 weeks required so I didn't feel all that bad about it or feel like I was jeopardizing my foot's ability to heal.

To look like a good little patient, I slipped the boot on right before my appointment and walked in.

Unfortunately for him I was already uptight and ready to snap when he came in.

doc: "Lets go ahead and wean you out of the boot, here's a schedule to follow..."

uh yeah

doc: "how does it feel?"

me: "I don't know. Its sore but there's so much going on down there I can't pinpoint anything"

doc: "I don't feel any catch in the joint movement. I only want you to wear stable shoes and I want to see you back here in 4 weeks. Its going to be sore. Sore at night, sore walking, sore in the morning. It wont be normal when you come back in 4 weeks, but it might be better 4 to 6 weeks after our next visit"

and here is where I turn on the waterworks...

I *should* be happy, but you know something? IT STILL SUCKS. By the time I might be normal it will have been 18 months since this shit started, over a year since I last ran, and I NEED that outlet. I need to turn on my iPod, shut out the world and go pound pavement until I don't have the energy to be uptight, worried, or just generally crazy.

I know its not the foot doc's fault and I shouldn't direct my frustration in his general direction. He really is trying to fix me and get me back to running. He's just an easy target, especially when the bills for this latest surgery have started to roll in and the total from the very beginning to now is almost $20,000.

That is one really expensive fucking toe.

33 going on 80

I'm turning into an old biddy.

I realized last night I have spent the majority of the past 5 days sitting in a rocking chair crocheting and my hip hurts from my funny walk with my boot.

Next up, funny old lady smell and 64 cats.

He's only mostly dead

I'm finally able to tolerate the fugly boot for more than a few minutes. This means I'm able to make dinner (no more nasty frozen pizzas because that's the only thing Dave learned how to make during his single days) and move around the house without hopping on one foot or navigating the toy landmines with crutches.

Dave is doing much better this time around but its still frustrating he wont let anyone come over and give us a hand but he gets frustrated taking care of the house and the kids without his normal quiet time in the shop. I had to laugh on Thursday after the kids were put back in bed for the third time when he came into the livingroom and slumped down in his chair with a loud sigh.

Dave - "I am dead. No, I'm not dead, I'm run over and run down."

Me - "Now imagine if I asked you for sex..."

Dave - "I'm going down to the shop."

That's what I thought.

post surgery

One day post surgery and it hurts more than the last one. The foot doc said the first surgery was a success and the cartilage looked good so no drilling. WAHOO!

So what was the pain I was feeling? Very likely instability in the joint. He went ahead and redirected the tendons and worked the joint until it moved the way it should. I'm still stuck in the fugly boot for 6 weeks and get the creepy toe.

I asked the anesthesiologist if they knock people out faster if they start to cry. He laughed and said no but when I started to freak out walking into the operating room he told me he could knock me out fast if I wanted him to.

Kids are napping so I think I'm going to take another pain killer and pass out for a while.

I hate.

I'm scheduled for another foot surgery in 10 days and I'm more scared of this one than the last one. With the last surgery I didn't really know what to expect and I was pretty sure it was going to work. Somehow the blood got cut off to one of my joints and the cartilage has started to die. Its not uncommon to see this kind of injury in ankles so treat the joint in my foot like they would an ankle. Open it up, drill holes in the cartilage to restore blood flow, shatter the joint so it heals with a stronger thicker platform for the cartilage to sit on.

Except it didn't work.

The first surgery was scheduled on our anniversary, this one is scheduled for New Year's eve. At least I'm sneaking it in at the last possible day for this year's insurance AND have the bonus of already hitting my deductible for the year.

I'm spending way too much time fretting about this. This time they will be scaling back the cartilage, drilling again and moving a tendon. The tendon thing is to keep the toe attached to the metatarsal head stiff. When I curl my toes I'll have one toe that stays straight. I know its the next logical progression but I'm scared. I'm scared of anesthesia and surgery. I'm scared of how far back they will have to cut the cartilage. I'm scared of how creepy the toe thing is going to be.

I already know how hard its going to be to move around the house and having to rely on everyone else for everything for a few weeks. I'll be stuck taking baths again needing help getting in and out feeling very geriatric. I'll hate sitting there knowing the kids want and need me to play and help them and I will be stuck in a fucking chair. Not to mention the suck side effect of my bowels totally shutting down for a few days and having a monster painful poop after overdosing on stool softeners.

I think the one thing I'm dreading the most is the fugly boot.




I have spent a grand total of 14 weeks in this thing already and I HATE THE FUCKING THING. I hate that it draws attention and I feel like I'm sausage stuffing my leg into my pants just to try to cover it up. I hate my feet not being level with each other. I hate how hard it is to give the kids a bath with it on and I hate trying to get up off the floor with it.

I hate Hate HATE HATE it.

It is one year and one month since this shit has started and it has been 9 months since they told me to stop running. It sucks to see the treadmill all folded up in the basement gathering dust and not have any idea when I'll be able to get on it again.

Enough pissing and moaning. I need to get back to playing with the kids on the floor while I still can.