No, make that "dulled." I dutifully did another day of Medication And Rest so I didn't feel much of anything all day and didn't do much of anything either. Phone-app solitaire, web surfing and a nap were plenty entertaining enough and that is so not me as to be a little concerning. Who is this strange half-invalid and why is she living in my head and body?
On the other hand the emotions which did bubble up past the hydrocodone were sadness and frustration in about equal parts. Also, if I'm being honest, a slug of fear, too. Fear that the reason it still hurts even after two solid weeks of cast time is because it -isn't- healing properly and will need surgically stabilized. Weaker fear about why it broke in the first place. Sadness that I won't be getting any more library books till I'm back to full mobility. Mostly a huge frustration that a fracture I never thought I had in the first place is turning into THE driver of my entire life.
I'm sure there's a big lesson about acceptance here but I'm not very receptive to it right now. The re-x-ray isn't tomorrow but the day -after- tomorrow which is particularly annoying to me right now: close but not close enough.
I'm also having a lot of trouble with being incapacitated. Lazy. Slacker. Goof-off. Unmotivated. Useless. Even though I know better. It is really easy to read "if your compassion doesn't include yourself it is incomplete" but damned near impossible to put into practice.
The self-care tools I started using in early sober time are still of great value though: was planning menus before sending Middle to the grocery and said "let's get pizza on Tuesday. That's the day of my clinic visit and no matter what they say, even if it's good news, I still won't be in any mood to cook." That's planning ahead to avoid overwhelm right there. Go me.
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