Tag Archives: Life Lessons

ORIF


image

Finding the right physical therapist took a lot of time, which set me back just like finding the right surgeon (and personally I think he did a fine job and I want to get him and his staff a box of chocolates – is this too intimate?). Thank the Lord!

It seems like the second time was the charm of these circumstances. And I’m just happy enough to identify the madness and to be given the tiny miracle of opportunity to change things as soon as I can. It’s been a total of eight weeks (maybe more?) and everything still feels crazy to me.

The first real therapy session – mind you aggressive! – has actually set me to a default of the first stage of grief (for some): Shock! I was zombiefied after the session. And although I’ve been doing my own research and physical therapy work at home, I felt like one of those gym people who only perform 15 minutes of cardio and 15 minutes of strength-training and for them that was the hard part besides finding the nerve to get to the gym.

But more than that is how these people tend to LOVE the SHIT out of the stretching part of the workout session. You could see the joy plastered on their faces. It’s almost disgusting!  Nevertheless, it’s how I felt when the therapy session was over. No more pain from a stranger. No more looking like a fucking noob. No more wallowing. The massage and ice afterwards felt golden. It was the best part besides feeling like a 2 year old and taking my first steps with a walker. But then, the shock hit me on the way home.

Sighs.

I felt lost in a sky like the toddler who let go a second too soon because he doesn’t know any better – he hasn’t grown into life yet. Or like the lady floating on her own balloon in the picture above – not sure where she’s going? (Where am I traveling to?)

So, what is ORIF anyway? It’s a Fracture Fibula – Open Reduction Internal Fixation! Fixation, eh? I’m certainly fixated on this current situation – so much so I feel like a hot mess, like a pair of 10 year old sneakers, abused and neglected that can be found in a corner of a gym.

Okay, so I’m making gains, progressing like the way a slug does all the while looking back somewhat. I’m stuck in a very past-present condition. I’d love to put this all behind me, however I have to learn life lessons and look at the bigger picture of several things and get this balloon of the unknown off of me so I can feel somewhat normal and like I’m back in my element. I’m tired of floating. I don’t like the feeling of limbo.

And if anyone tells me to get the fuck over this, not only will I smack them with a fucking dumbbell – I’ll display the video of my surgery and in the process break their fucking ankle. Kidding! Almost. 😉

-Pennington

Advertisements

I’ll Remember You Three


image

I’ll remember you as cold and typically distant, there in body – not in spirit, on your phone nonstop, barely a spoken word, tiny complaints, annoyed facial expressions, being passive, sex on the forefront of the mind, in and out menial conversations, game apps, assisting me and the folding of my wheelchair, zero mantra of hope, making me sandwiches and fetching cups of orange juice, implying I may not be in as much pain as I seem, comfort in the back of the car when the wind directed my flowing tears after leaving my mother’s burial, sharing a cab ride, and a cracked joke about my mom on her way to heaven asking for a cigarette.

I’ll remember you as a selfish bitch, grieving inwardly and out, unconcerned when it came to everyone else, money-seeking cuntbag, couldn’t carry out a sister’s dying wish of cremation, head out in the clouds of complete nothingness, forgotten identification card, planning a memorial for death as a healthy outlet, taking time off work to eat like a greedy hog who’s content to be lazy, judging others, caring for nonsense drama like a half-sister threatening you with words on Facebook and sending me on my way with one-hundred dollars and bags of brand new clothing.

I’ll remember you as a developing friend who became my good friend, who redirected his attraction to me so we can be platonic, who wanted to represent something new and different in my life, as the one who cared for me with warm compresses, tending to my cyst, having meals prepared along with home accommodations so I can maneuver around the house with a broken ankle, who gave me poetry every day of light and love, hands of great passion which caressed my face and taught me about warmth I have missed, who visited my dying mother along with me because you felt, more than I that it was significant.

-Pennington

No Well-Wishers Here!


I can honestly say in my life I never had any legitimate friends.

Like one who actually looks out for you, grabs you by your stubborn horns and knocks compelling sense into your brain so you do not go repeating the same dead-end cycle through life.  One who dares to put you in better situations because they want more for you (than you probably do for yourself?) rather than keep you in the same decreasing spot (as they) in hopes you’ll always need them in some low self-esteem dependency sort of way.

Not the kind of friend who allows another cunt to grab you by your hair from behind as she watches your temple get smashed into a concrete wall before you could even figure out what’s truly going on.  Or the kind who never seems to let go of the past as to why they’ll never help you get into a higher-paying job again because you know how everyone never has a fitting period of unquestionable mistakes and arrogant immaturity.

There has been times where I lost myself in yearning for a best friend badly that I’ve betrayed my own preachings and discarded my human behavioral theories.  However, in return, I paid the heavy price of being burned by the process of another life lesson.  Oh how magically magnificent it is to be enlighten by what you always knew to be infallible by the advantage built into our DNA called:  Intuition!

There are moments where having patience is greater than throwing trust into words or silly superstitious stuff say horoscope written for the general population.  Or what I call “get-by actions” that are led by another whereas they provide the basics and participate in the bare minimum of what it takes to be in your life (whatever that may be for somebody like you).

Now I haven’t truly given up on perhaps the idea of possibly gaining a friendship where all becomes daffodils, butterflies and two-way streets and rights within the world.  But I feel old in my thinking and the modern way of believing makes it harder to maintain the dream of maybe.  No, not because I’m bitter.  But because I’ve been doing fine by myself for thirty years now.  Maybe fixing this would be the problem?  So hesitation is the one that grants my defense permission to act how it wishes.

There’s more to this story and perhaps not what you think. 😉

-Pennington