1. The last 3 days I have left my bed for the bathroom and for Korey my rock star of a physical therapist who tries to train my bones to a more medical textbook look than the art history Picasso thing they usually go for.
3. Back to crying. Both tibias are dislocated along with a rib and wrist. Do you know what that means? No cane, no wheelchair. So I’m shuffling myself into my pain clinic like Frankenstein. Why would I not cancel this appointment take myself to bed and take a pain killer like a reasonable human? Oh my summer child...
4. Thanks to California’s new 2019 opioid laws I was given 5 days of my January prescriptions. Isn’t it the end of January you ask. Why yes, yes it is oh gentle kind child. I CANNOT miss this appointment because I need the new magic forms that allow the pharmacists who believe their degrees now have taken them from dispensing said medication into the realms of pain doctors with a say in my medication.
5. OOOOOOO more fun with laws. I now have to buy a I won’t die from an opioid overdose medication called Naloxone. Good idea? Sure, I mean I haven’t changed my meds for almost 10 years but sure it would be nice just in case. It’s $100. My insurance does not cover it which means Medicare does not cover it. Wow thanks!
6. In bed for the entire flipping night. Dogs have become immensely happy at their good fortune and snuggle. Cats have been jumping from higher and higher places in my room dive bombing the dislocated joints and smirking with evil glee.
7. REDEMPTION!!!!!!!!! My whill wheelchair is coming today. Yes. officially they cannot call it a wheelchair but my I get to. MY WHILL WHEELCHAIR IS COMING!!!!! The incredibly kind man who is bringing it will be greeted with household glee and joy that could only be rivaled by and over sugared 5 year old at a birthday party with real unicorns and an unadulterated supervised candy counter.