Things that Go “Woof!” in the Night

So, I have been told that my life is a Saturday Night Live sketch waiting to happen.

Apparently things happen to me that generally only happen in the movies or on television.

Last night was the movie Rear Window.
You know, the movie with Jimmy Stewart where he is recovering from a broken foot and witnesses a murder through his open window.
Yeah, that was me.
Only without a murder.
Just a stupid dog.

Last night, I had been up for hours, listening to this stupid, little, yappy dog bark.
We live in town.
In a highly residential area.
I should not be listening to a yappy or howling dog in the middle of the night.
His owners are home.
These people have been approached many times by both my husband and I and our Sweet Neighbor about this animal.
When they have refused to act, we have been to animal control and the police.
Their standard mantra is, “There is not really anything we can do.”

So, there I am laying in bed at 1 a.m. live texting my Sissy about this dumb dog, when I realize that my Sweet Neighbor has left her house and is yelling at the dog.
My Sissy was afraid that the owners would call the police on the Sweet Neighbor.
“Ummm…No,” I explained. “This is the warning that they get that she is about to call the police herself!”
Then the police show up.
She called the cops!

Picture this…
Me…
with my broken foot…
who can’t get around on her own…
flopped over in an obnoxiously uncomfortable angle…
so that I can peek through the shutters at my Sweet Neighbor and the police officer…
and eavesdrop!

Typically, I am huddled in the dark next to her, waiting for the police.
It is our theory that while the other neighbors can hear the dog, they don’t want to deal with the owners.

I live texted my Sissy the whole exchange.
There was a lot of gesturing on the part of my Sweet Neighbor, while I could hear her explaining the issues we have been having with this particular pet and family for the past 3 years.
Their dog barking at all hours of the day and night…
Running rampant through the neighborhood (in a town where there is a leash law)…
Chasing runners, walkers, children, postal workers…
…my cats…
Because to quote the owners, “These are just the types of things that dogs do.”

And, apparently, the police officer had been looking on the wrong street.
He had slowed down when he started to hear the barking…
…Three blocks and one street away.
He finally agreed that we shouldn’t have to live our lives with the soundtrack of this dumb dog.
I think he gave them a ticket for disturbing the peace!
At least I hope so!

The end result was that they finally got the owners to take the dog into their house for the rest of the night.
History with these owners have shown that they will keep their dog in the house at night for most of the next week and then we will be back to the barking, howling, yapping dog and middle of the night calls to the police.

So, it makes me then wonder…
What will I see the happen the next time I can get to a window to peer out!

11 Blessings of a Broken Foot

I have a Pollyanna Complex.

My glass is always half full.

The other day, while in a painkiller stupor I was starting to feel my glass get half empty.

I don’t do half empty.

So I decided to start to count my blessings of a broken foot.

1. The ER didn’t send me home before I was seen by the orthopedist.
Yes, Ma’am, I see that your foot is broken in four or five places. Here, have this boot with velcro and some pain pills. Call the orthopedist on Monday and go see them. Thanks, have a nice day!

I can’t even imagine!

2. I have been banking paid sick leave FOREVER and have several weeks backed up.
So, even though I am down for the count, I am still able to get paid.

3. Most of my summer projects are cloud / internet based so I can still keep working from home.

4. The Ranger has excellent bedside manner. *Wink* *Wink*
Seriously, I love that man! He is pretty darn awesome (and that isn’t just the painkillers talking!)

5. Rose, my mother-in-law, has finally come for an extended visit!
In fact, I told her the other day that my broken foot was just an elaborate ruse to get her to visit us…and it worked!

6. My sister-in-law, that I love to death, drove Rose down so I got to visit with her for a couple of days!
It is really great having nurses in the family. Who knew that adding one more pillow to the leg could make such a huge difference!

7. I got an AWESOME care package from my Mama and Sissy.
The box talked.
Seriously!
When Trumpet Girl set it down on the table, it actually said, “NO!”

8. I have always wanted to be 9 month faculty, and this is going to be pretty close.

9. I have realized that we truly have a support network in place here in Middle of Nowhere, TN.
Friends have been dropping by to visit, texting to see if we need anything, bringing pizza, etc.

10. Time to catch up on my reading (I’m out of books) and DVR recordings!

So, now my glass is back to being half-full.

Oh, and I now have an 11!

11. I finally have time to update my blog.

There!
Done!

How I Failed to Negotiate a Set of Steps

Or, “How I managed to get 4 weeks of paid vacation with just one missed step”

Either way you put it, it put me in a cast.

Ever since my first FaceBook post on Saturday that I was at the hospital, people have been wondering exactly what I did.

I broke my right foot.

In at least four places.

I sprained my left ankle.

Only one place to do that.

So, how could this happen?

Apparently, very easily.

Saturday, June something, 7:30 a.m.

I’m not exactly sure what today’s date is, let alone what the date was on Saturday.

I got up, made the Ranger some breakfast, and went down to the basement to give the Queen her breakfast and her insulin shot.

The Ranger and I had a full day planned, and, as usual, I was making lists in my head and the first thing on that list was yardwork.

We live in the Middle-of-Nowhere, TN, so it is best to do yard work first thing in the morning. We were even running late! One of our neighbors had already finished his lawn!

Doing yard work requires some finagling for us – we don’t have a shed or garage, so all of our mower, trimmer, etc. are kept in our basement.

And before you say something, none of our equipment is powered by gasoline. Everything is electric with either rechargeable batteries or electric cords.

Our basement is a walk up, with four steps to an interior door and another to get out an exterior door. Both doors have individual locks.

I figured that I would save myself some time and unlock the interior basement door so that I wouldn’t have to keep running in and out doors and up and down stairs to get doors unlocked and equipment outside.

I went up four steps and unlocked the basement door and started to back down the steps. Hold on folks, this is where the chain reaction starts…

Apparently, I didn’t count my steps up correctly and I completely missed at least one or two of the steps. This misstep caused my right foot to come down hard and at an angle across the edge of the cement bottom step. Feeling the pain, I hopped onto my left foot, and managed to do a turn that would have looked graceful if I were a ballerina but since I’m not looked more like someone who was trying to fall without causing more damage, and I went down screaming for the Ranger.

I have a lot of practice falling.

I once had a basketball coach who decided to teach us to fall without hurting ourselves, it was the one time I lettered in a sport.

The fact that I had never broken a bone has amazed my parents for years! Stitches, concussions, pulled muscles, crutches, bandages, patches, splints, boots, but never a broken bone. Until now.

The Ranger grabbed our Sweet Neighbor, who came running, at 7:35 am.

They decided that I was really hurt because I wasn’t laughing.

See, when you are as accident prone as I am, you tend to laugh at yourself a lot.

I wasn’t laughing.

I was screaming…gasping…crying…incoherent.

They called an ambulance.

I have decided that there are some lovely things in this world and Fentanyl on Saturday morning was a happy thing…

…at least for an hour at which time it was no longer happy.

Around 9:30 a.m. I was that person in the ER who is screaming and crying in a cubicle while everyone else is trying to figure out who is screaming and crying and what horrifying thing happened to them.

I, of course, felt totally within my rights to be screaming and crying. I wasn’t doing it on purpose, but when the X-ray technicians are moving your broken foot to various angles so they can try to see what is broken… yeah… it just happened.

Sorry for what I screamed while I was being X-rayed.

After they got done, I was given some more happy medication called dilaudid.

It was my friend…

..at least for an hour at which time it was no longer my friend.

All my screaming must have paid off, because the nurse came back to us with a boot.

You know the kind…big…velcro…doesn’t match anything you own.

He stopped just short of putting it on my foot.

Thank-you, Sweet Baby Jesus!

He said they were going to wait for the orthopedist to come and look at it before putting the boot on and sending me home.

The fact that the orthopedist was coming in on a Saturday morning, would have had me a bit concerned if it weren’t for the dilaudid.

It did make the Ranger a bit concerned.

I am used to the world where they put a boot on your foot or your arm in a splint and send you home to make an appointment with the orthopedist.

In fact, the Ranger called the Sweet Neighbor who had stayed at our house with the Minions to let them know we would be home soon.

The orthopedist felt my foot up, and said they were going to do a CAT Scan. The X-ray had showed one break, but it wasn’t straight and he was going to have to manipulate it around to put it back and he wanted to make sure there would be no surprises.

I’m glad he did the CAT Scan.

He was glad he did the CAT Scan.

Apparently my Mama’s advice of, “If you are going to do anything, do your best!” had sunk in.

In addition to several smaller breaks, they had to realign the metatarsals for toes 2-4 and I broke some bone on the bottom of my foot that goes to my big toe.

Luckily, before they start this surgery, they knocked me out.

I woke up in a plaster cast.

I spent 2 days in the hospital…

…with a broken foot.

That was longer than I spent in the hospital after giving birth.

I have decided that I love the night nurses.

I like the daytime nurses too, but I really love the night nurses.

They apologize everytime they come in to check on you.

They bring you snacks at 3 a.m.

Mine brought me a toothbrush and toothpaste at midnight.

It was supposed to be just an overnight, but when the physical therapists tried me out on crutches…

No words here…

…just the massive shaking of heads.

With a sprained ankle and a broken foot, they decided that I needed a wheelchair for being in the house.

They don’t hand out wheelchairs on Sunday.

The orthopedist agreed with their assessment and kept me overnight again.

The nurse had me up again that evening…this time with a walker.

I can totally ROCK a walker!

I went home on Monday with my crutches to get into my house, a walker to get around the house, and happy pills to make sure that I sat on my butt most of the time.

I am supposed to “rest.”

I am really BAD at “resting.”

I am making lists.

Lists of projects to accomplish while I am “resting.”

So now you know what happened!

I would like to put a disclaimer on this post to please not judge my grammar and punctuation too harshly on this post. Painkillers don’t work well for proof reading.