A New Point Of View

***I am totally warning you ahead of time that there are some pretty nasty pictures of my naked ankle in this post. If you don't want to see them then don't look. For reals! It's gross.***

I went back to see the surgeon again today and finally get that soft cast off. Glory Hallelujah!! That thing felt like I was dragging around 50 pounds of concrete whenever I tried to move it. When they took the cast off, here's what we saw:

The little incision

The big incision

I didn't realize how long (and gross looking) the incisions were. Or how many staples had been used to hold them together. I'll admit it made me a little queasy to see my foot like that. And even queasier to have the staples removed.

A nurse took some x-rays so we could check out the inside view as well. Want to see my new hardware?

Isn't it bionic? (Don't you think?)

I had no idea the plate was so long. Or that there were so many screws in there, either.

Seriously, I'm totally Bionic Ankle Woman now and it didn't cost me six million dollars. Don't be jealous.

When it came time to choose a color for the cast, I was waffling between black and white. Black wouldn't get dirty and it would match pretty much everything. With a white cast I could buy a huge pack of colored markers and let the kids go at it until I was sporting a masterpiece.

However, I ultimately went with something completely different...



Because how can you go wrong with camo? I figure this way no one can see my cast - that's the magic of camouflage.

That, my friends, is how I went from being an ordinary mother and housewife to the part Bionic, part Invisible Woman that you see before you today.

And now, after all of that excitement, I am ready to go and take a nap.

SuperGerb, out.

Lessons Learned From My Christmas 'Break'

Here's what I look at all day, every day.

It has been a looooooong week since my ankle surgery.

Unfortunately, my initial tendencies lately are to feel sorry for myself, sitting around on my bed all day. For those of you who think that sounds wonderful, sitting in bed having others attend to you 24/7, it is pretty overrated; especially for someone like myself who likes being independent.

I will admit that the sweet little bundle of beautiful baby boy who rests to my right and shares my confinement does make it more bearable. But still. For example - I used to have free access to the multitude of snacks in my kitchen without anyone having to know of my terrible treat-eating habits. Now if I want one, I have to ask someone to get it for me. This is all fine and good, except that after asking a couple of times I can't bring myself to ask again. "Could you go get mom another plate of cookies from the freezer downstairs? Oh, and a bowl of ice cream?" It just doesn't seem right. I'm sure this is a good thing... but when I just want a chocolate crinkle cookie from my stash in the downstairs freezer and have to ask someone to bring it to me I can guarantee you my stash is being depleted when I'm not looking. Revealing the places where my stash is hidden really stinks.

I think that I have learned a few wonderful lessons this past week, however. It has been a tough one, but a good one. I have mentioned before that we live in an awesome neighborhood. It's like an extension of the family, really. And when something like a broken ankle and a newborn baby happen in the same week, people really want to help. Usually when I have a baby and someone offers to bring us dinner I will tell them that I appreciate the offer but we are fine and have plenty of capable cooks around. Even if I want to accept their offers of baked goods and delicious meals this just seems like the right thing to do. Just say no, a little voice inside my head whispers to me. You are independent! You can do it all! You don't need any help.

That voice is me, the part of me who wants to do it all. The part of me that wants to show the world that no matter how large our family is or what happens to us, we can handle things ourselves. It has been difficult to admit to, but that voice is wrong. Sometimes, it takes a village to love and support a family during a tough time - and this is one of those times.

Not only do I want to accept any and all offers of food and assistance, I sort of need to. I can't even stand for more than a few minutes at a time and even that about kills me, trying to precariously balance on my good foot while holding my broken ankle off the ground. I'm stuck in bed pretty much all of the time unless I am feeling up to making my way to the couch. Allen is busy being mom AND dad when he's home, tending to the housework and the kiddos, and as soon as the teenagers get home from school he's off to his other job - the one he gets paid to do. (Love that man!)

I'd ask the teenagers to pitch in and make dinner but it seems they are in a constant state of doing homework or tending to my other little needs during the evening (changing diapers, helping littler kids with homework and getting PJs on, helping me make school lunches for the next day, maintaining the house, etc.) not to mention the nights they have their own obligations (church activities, basketball games, practices, etc.).

So I've changed. I have learned to respond to offers of help not with, "I appreciate that, but we're fine" but instead with this new phrase:

"That would be awesome. Thank you."

I am not sure why it is so difficult to let others serve us. When I am asked to help others, I love to do so. I want to be the first in line to bring in a meal for a family with a new baby or whatnot. I love the feeling of being able to fulfill a need for someone. So why do I have a hard time letting others do the same for me? They would not ask to help if they did not want to do so. It has been a good lesson for me to accept these kind acts of service. I am filled with overwhelming gratitude for the wonderful neighbors and friends who have done so much for us in the past week.

To everyone who has sent well-wishes and amazing food and sweet little gifts our way, thank you. You have all helped make this much more bearable and we are so grateful for everything.

A million times, thank you.

Turn Up The Valium

Allen's cataract surgery last month was not quite as successful as we'd hoped as far as his vision goes. Because of this he had to go in for a bit more eye surgery to fix an astigmatism in hopes it would do the trick.

The doctor had explained to him that this would be a quick procedure, taking less than 90 seconds, and that he would be given a valium to help him relax. To be honest, I couldn't wait to see what effect the valium had on him.

When we (finally!) were called back to get him ready for surgery, they put all kinds of drops in his eye as well as outfitting him with a brand new hat and shoes.
I started snapping more pictures, and this is what I was getting:

(Don't you love how the guy to the left has no idea what's going on when his back is turned?)

Oh, how I was loving the valium!

After the procedure was complete I asked him if he still felt loopy at all.

"They never gave me anything," he told me.

What? No valium? So, all of these pictures are drug-free...

Is it any wonder why I love this guy?

Not For The Squeamish

Disclaimer: There's nothing particularly clever or funny about this post. Just so you know.

When you hear cataracts you probably think of your grandma, right? Not around here.

Allen is a young cataract patient. The best the doctors can guess is that the cataracts were caused by exposure to sunlight over time (so wear your sunglasses!). The good news is that cataract surgery is the most successful surgery in the United States today.

The thing about Allen is this: when he wants to find out about something he will research it until there is nothing left to discover and then decide how to move forward from there. After reading about all of the various lens replacements and surgical methods available he was ready to make plans for surgery.

His first surgery is scheduled for next week.

In all of his research he found some videos of the actual surgery taking place. He wanted to show them to me because he found them fascinating and educational. Despite my apprehension and squeamish stomach I watched this video of a cataract surgery with him and thought I was handling it well until I saw this photo that ElemenoB snapped...

At least I'm not vomiting. (Yet.)

I will say that I am extremely happy that we live in a time and place where this kind of surgery is almost guaranteed to be successful. Add that to Allen's confidence that all will go well and most of my fears are eased.

p.s. This is my 300th post! Holy smokes.