The physical side of the accident last week is improving rapidly. The hardest thing about typing is compensating for the splint on my left arm, which throws off my fingering.*
The various cuts and abrasions are already well on their way to that pink fleshy thing that such things are prone to. The more spectacular bruising, uneven Rorschach tests imprinted all over my body, has almost faded. The let arm has the worst of it, partly because of the break, partly because they had endless problems getting an IV into the 3D road map of veins that I possess. I've often said it's darn good thing that I've had absolutely NO interest in IV drugs -- but apparently having an arm that a blind man with Parkinson's should be able to tap wasn't good enough for the professionals.
Considering how much those guys charge for a trip on that ambulance**, I would have expected better.
My right arm is doing really well, though I recently discovered it's possible to have a muscle cramp so bad that you bruise yourself. To be fair, that was after my first bath last Thursday, under the "Oh, we didn't think that through all the way, did we?" category of silliness -- as in "How does one get up out of a victorian claw footed tub, naked and wet, with one arm not capable of supporting my weight and another not capable of ANYTHING at the moment?" Answer: with a lot of help from Roni, some bizarre contortions that got a leg under myself to push up my body, and still using the right arm past it's current specification.
But it was STILL so worth it to soak myself completely devoid of any restraint or covering. Anyone who's ever been stuck in a cast can appreciate the joy of being able to take the (long string of expletives restrained) off for washing.
Or SCRATCHING. Though cleaning the arm more often means it doesn't get all skanky and itchy in the first place.
My lip is already healed... in fact, I had to pull the damn stitches by Friday because they were causing me more grief than they were helping. As of today it feels not unlike a cut you might give yourself during some over-exuberant chewing after a few days.
My nose has some weird issues for the first few days where some of the cartilage was -- how else can I possibly put this? Mushy. Occasionally I would forget and idly scratch, only to feel something shift. Worse, I could HEAR it shift. Not so much broken as dented. Fortunately that's no longer the case, and the weird bruising there is clearing up.
Which leaves the bizarre psychological aspect of this whole thing to contend with.
I was seriously thinking I could get back to work by yesterday -- it turns out that I was assessing the physical damage (and healing) correctly. However, I'm still tackling with some heavy emotional weight that's making me feel... less than whole.
Bluntly, there's this depression that I'm having trouble shaking. I thought that the heavy painkillers were screwing with my other meds, so I weaned myself off of them by Tuesday. As in not even Ibuprofen. Of note was how LITTLE I hurt -- Considering how beat up I was I expected to be far more sore. In all honesty I've felt more pain after a weekend at Ren Faire, just from the assorted walking and carrying I did for Linda (Momma Hobbit).
By last night it was apparent I was seriously depressed. I was more than a little aggravated at myself for it, because even in terms of this accident my life is doing really well, despite the drama injected or self-inflicted. Hell, considering how poorly I scar compared to other people I won't even have those in a month's time, and my arm will almost be out of the splint. In two months the only thing remaining will be my memory of going from vertical to horizontal in record time.
Friday night was movie night at Perforce -- they were showing "The Emperor's New Groove" first, followed by "The Big Lebowski" in the back parking lot. Roni, penguin_goddess and I went, if only to show people that I was mostly okay (the office visit was a bit too quick for everyone to see me -- as it was a lot of people hadn't heard I had been hurt until the movie). People were so damn supportive I thought I was going to cry...
Bullshit, I DID cry. It's just a lot easier to hide that when it's dark outside.
They even sent me flowers earlier in the day. Damn it, how can I be depressed knowing that even WORK loves me?
I know, that's not how it works. I suspect that this is also combining with a lot of the personal revelations I've been grappling with (no duh!) and trying to resolve over the last few months. Hell, it even disrupted the first chance I had to go hot-tubbing with Koosh in months! I was REALLY looking forward to that.
Oh, did I mention that it was also about two hours before lunar_phoenix and penguin_goddess were planning on subjecting me to all sorts of sexual degradations? Hell, that all by itself is depressing. Sure, they've pointed out that they'll both be around for a long time, and thus will cash that rain-check when it's possible -- but damned if THAT doesn't make me cry as well.
What is so fucked up about the human psyche that people being nice to you when you need it most makes you cry?
Before this turns into a total self-pity party, I should note that I AM pulling out of it. Gradually, to be sure... which is why I decided to stay out until next Monday. I want to walk in there READY, as close to 100% as having one arm in a splint will allow. I even managed to write some bits of fiction last night, my first in months -- I'm hoping that this will turn out to be one of the cosmic resets, a re-alignment of my thinking that will allow me to let go of stuff I have no control over, and concentrate more on the here and now.
And in another sign I'm getting better, I find myself eager to post this so I can start ANOTHER post of a more political bent. Did you think I was going to NOT comment on the recent implosions in DC?
* Of the Keyboard, you gutter snipes!
** $1083.00 US -- I received the bill yesterday. Roni's worried that insurance might be a problem, because apparently a lot of companies won't pay out unless you're admitted. Considering that I was in no shape to refuse transport (dazed and bleeding, added to intense pain) I'm not certain that I know what else I could have done. I thought I would have been better of getting a cab, even if he charged extra for getting blood on the vinyl. Roni thought that I should mention that next time I would simply walk the distance, nearly blind and with two useless arms, leaving a trail of blood behind me.