Ow ow ow ow!

There's the Doctor, so this post must be about the television show or my own ongoing medical happenings. The latter!

Whereas last time was fairly protracted and dramatic, this time around with my foot was very different. I drove by myself, was checked in quickly, relaxed for 15 minutes on the procedural table, and drove home shortly thereafter. The other big difference is I didn't have happy drugs. Many pokes! Shit!

And now my foot really hurts.

I limped out of the hospital. Driving isn't bad because I don't have to put a great deal of weight on my heel, but walking is absolute hobbling torture. I got home, had lunch, mostly sat around, and then went to pick up the girls. The limp festival from the door to the car and back again was by far the worst. Then I napped on the couch while they watched Free Willy, which from all I heard is utter tripe.

Once I woke up, I half expected the pain to be less. Oh, very wrong. It's a stinging, fiery slice of pain up the outside of my foot and ankle, like my bone's been perforated. I'm supposed to keep off it and keep it wrapped up and dry for 48 hours, which is mostly do-able because I'm driving to Iowa for my speech before the Heart of Iowa Fiction Authors on Saturday. Yay for giving paid presentations!

I'm gonna go lie around and moan some more, although it's not really when I'm lying down that it hurts. To officially complain, I'd have to walk around for some reason, and that reason would have to be damn compelling.

In other news, Christy Morrell of To Love and to Cherish by Patricia Gaffney is quite possibly too wonderful to bear. I'm swooning here. Gaffney is a writing goddess, and I'm trying to keep my professional cool. It's humbling...yet utterly wonderful as a reader.

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