I Was Trying Real Hard


I was trying so hard.

But I was shut the fuck down.

I am down and out for three more fucking weeks.

Pardon my French.

Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

No working for three weeks.

No money.

And no, I don’t have benefits, thanks for asking, because I am an ass hat and didn’t bother to really get my shit together, really get some work underneath me that pays the bills in some kind of way, with like, you know.


I am almost done beating myself up.

When no one’s looking I pick up the whip and beat the living shit out of myself.

Oops, my friend just gave me shit.

I am getting to learn how to ask for help, again.

Oh, look at that, how cute she is, trying too go to fast again.

I got the old shut down and shut it down now.

Perchance I need to back up and start at the beginning.

Start at the doctor’s office, or even before that with the friends who dropped by for coffee and with coffee, the friend who picked me up and took me home, the friend who is here now in my little studio kitchen making me dinner while a bag of frozen peas sits across my ankle.

I am at least out of the splint.

But like going from the frying pan into the fire, I am not out of the woods yet.

That might be the worst mixing of metaphors I have ever done.

I can aspire, can’t I?


I got to Kaiser, French Campus, which I did not know that the department I wanted to go to, Podiatry, was actually behind the building I got dropped off at, so I had the delightful experience of wandering around lost for a little bit.

I made it on time, but out of breath and ran into a friend who was there for a consultation and we quietly commiserated in the waiting room with each other.

The nurse took off my splint and I immediately started crying.

She “there, there’d” me and got me a box of apple juice and said very sweetly that the bruising was not so bad, really, don’t fret, doctor will be in soon.

It looks disgusting.

Green, black, purple, swollen on both sides, some nice yellow streakiness in there too.


Doc came in, showed me the x-rays, said, no breaks, no fractures, yes, severe sprain, we are going to outfit you with a boot.

Cue tears.

A boot?

A walking boot to help facilitate eventual walking.


More tears.

Doc handed me a roll of padded gauze to dry my tears with, the box of tissues proved to be empty.

“You’ll be in the boot three weeks, maybe two, on crutches for another week or so, depends on how fast it heals, but I’m thinking three weeks in the boot, then slow transition to a shoe, and not the shoe you’re wearing now,” he said pointing to my abandoned Converse on the floor.

The nurse had taken off my right shoe while I was on the examination table so that the doctor could compare my two ankles.  She also said, “look how strong your legs are, you are lucky you are so strong, you should have broken it.”

“I’m going to give you a list of shoes to wear, and Converse are not on it,” the doctor continued, “plus I am going to give you exercises you can do in the boot, and once you are comfortable out of the boot, and I am going to recommend that you do physical therapy as well.”

“Your ankle won’t be fully healed for probably six months,” the doctor said.

Cue fresh tears.


“When will I be able to return to work?” I asked trying hard to swallow back my tears.

“Three weeks, maybe four, what do you do for a living?” The doctor sat scribbling something in my chart.

“I am a nanny,” I said.

“Oh, how old are the kids?”

I told him.

“Hmmm, three weeks probably, maybe sooner, but you’d still be wearing the boot, no running, obviously, you should be off the crutches by that point, three weeks, maybe four, depends on how you feel walking, you’ll know.”

Oh sweet jesus.

“You can claim disability,” he said.

I looked at him, tears flowing copiously down my face, gauze pad forgotten bunched up in my hand, “I don’t have an employment contract with the families, I work under the table and I don’t have any benefits,” I swallowed.

“I don’t know that I can claim disability,” I finished trying to catch my breath.

“Call the number on your paperwork and talk with the  counselor, you might be able to file for unemployment, it might take a while to get, but you should get something.”

The doctor patted my hand, “and you won’t have to have surgery, you take care of it and in a month we will check it over and I am nearly 100% that we can avoid a surgical repair.”


That is good news, in my heart, I know that is good news.

It is also challenging news, change my life news, surrender to what’s happening news.

I can’t do much about it.

I can’t go to work.

I can sit, like I am now, with my stupid ankle on a pile of pillows with a bag of frozen peas on it.

“You need to ice and elevate as much as possible,” said the doctor.

“And keep taking Motrin or Alieve for the swelling and pain, call me if you have any other questions, you’re going to be ok,” he smiled and patted my arm, “the nurse is going to come in and put you in the boot.”

He walked out the door.

The nurse walked in.

“Do you have a sock?”

I laughed.

I did indeed have socks in my bag.

Hello Kitty pink striped knee highs.

The nurse unrolled the sock over my toes, pulled them up, put my foot in the boot, showed me how to adjust the velcro and strapped me in.

The doctor came back, handed me my “walking papers” with all the various instructions, a booklet on at home ankle exercises and an admonition to take it easy.

Do I have a choice?

The only choice I have is to continue to continue to continue to surrender.


I mean.


What a wonderful experience I get to have.

Humiliations galore.


I mean humility.

Humility galore.

And love and forgiveness and more surrender.

Time to switch out the peas.

Excuse me while I go cry in my gauze pad.


Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

2 Responses to “I Was Trying Real Hard”

  1. Michael C. Vyrostek Says:

    I cant think of any words that will be of any help. somehow, you will survive. friends, mostly. people that want to help and can recognize a situation. There is a prayer that is being said for you right now. You need only accept the help as it comes. you will feel lost and alone in your struggle, but you are not alone. be patient with yourself. and take it one day at a time. you will heal. and dont worry about where is the next day is coming from. it will happen. May God be with you. Maybe you will sell a story,…work on a novel, sell screenplays online. try to keep your spirits up. Days and weeks will pass. Its the endless parade of minutes that can become depressing. Keep the Faith.

    • auntiebubba Says:

      Big hugs! Thank you. I am hanging in there. People have been so sweet and so kind. Getting rides, getting help, surrendering to the reality of the situation and letting go a lot.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: