When words are not enough

After having given birth, nursing the baby I gave birth to with the worst case of mastitis EVER, having a lidocaine injection in the sole of my foot I thought I had toughened up; my doctor did say I was one tough cookie, after all.

Boy, was I wrong. I have recently experienced a pain that was in a different league of pain than the list I gave above. (Disclaimer: I had an epidural so I didn't get, no, I didn't have to have the complete birth pain experience).

My brain couldn't comprehend the pain it was so intense. It was like a tidal wave of fire washing over my foot. The fiery sensation was only part of the agony; to complete the torture it felt like my foot was being crushed by an anvil.

To make matters worse I blew through my narcotics. Seeing I was getting low I pulled out the drugs I was sent home from the hospital with. I called the podiatrist to get more drugs. Stingy, stingy man. The first time he gave me 60 pills, the second time he gave me 20.

Did he not fully understand how miserable I was sitting on the couch, moaning and rocking? Could I really become an addict if the drugs simply made me less miserable?

With the pain only becoming worse and my drug supply running low I was getting desperate. I figured it was time to call the doctor again since I was contemplating chopping my foot off.

After several phone calls I finally got to speak to the doctor in the afternoon. After he asked me what I felt and I told him, "It feels like I woke up during surgery and I could feel you cutting me," he asked, "Hmm, why do you think you are experiencing this pain?"

My response: "Well, I'm gonna say it's because there was a scalpel in there last week."

He laughed.

No. no. no.

At least he understood he was dealing with a smart ass. But, ask a lame question, expect a lame answer.

He determined the pain was being caused by an irritated nerve. My heart sank. From what I recall, nerve pain is just something you have to deal with. He confirmed my fear. He told me to try loosening my boot and taking ibuprofen four times a day to take care of swelling. If by Friday it didn't get better to call him back and he might try one other pill.

So, if I could endure two more days of complete agony then he would give me a pill.

Grr.

Turns out he was right. I loosened the boot and what do you know? The pain went away! Now I'm left with normal post surgical pain. The post surgical normal stuff is NOTHING compared to the previous hell that was living in my lower limb.

So I'm hanging out at my mother-in-law's house for the next couple of weeks. My mom came up and stayed for 3 days. She made dinners and washed laundry and plain old took care of me, her baby. Ryan welcomed the help. He was working over time taking care of me, Gavin, the animals and the house.

My MIL won't let me lift a finger. It's kind of nice. I've only changed a handful of diapers. My mom tried to keep me planted but it's easier to disobey your own mother than someone else. Sorry, mom. I was a naughty girl when you were in town.

I even made my mom venture out into the city to get a prescription from my doctor and to the pharmacy to get me my fix.

Time to go wash my wounds. Maybe I'll gross my sister-in-law out. Bonus.