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Sunday, September 20, 2015

Bad Breaks

So yeah, Thing Two broke her ankle just about two weeks ago. I guess she missed the bottom step at her Mom's house, and at first it just looked like she'd rolled her ankle, but she wouldn't put any weight on it at all. Two broken bones in the ankle, surgery to fix it. There's two ways to reinforce the bones, internal screws & plates, or external rods. Given the risk of re-breaking it if (she has autism and seizures) she put weight on it too soon, well, the ortho surgeon recommended both.

After my finger surgery a few years back, I'm not disposed to go with the first recommendations of a surgeon. I wanted to get a second opinion, but after discussing the options with the first doc, and weighing the delay getting these opinions would translate to, well, the surgery.

So then it came to be my weekend to have Mo. Corinna wasn't home when we got here Friday so it was all on me to navigate the stairs into the house with my, like I say, autistic daughter with a broken ankle she must not put weight on for another month plus. She hops pretty good with the walker, and there's the wheelchair for when you just need to move her horizontally over a flat plane, but stairs. Stairs. Fuck.

And full disclosure, I have some PTSD type symptoms related to keeping my children safe. I'm their Dad, it's my job, and of course it's totally impossible, a fantasy to think I could keep them safe, but that doesn't lessen the emotional load. I worry about both, but Mo is the one with a significant disability making it all the harder to keep her safe. For instance, it's far from impossible that you'll be helping her hop up the stairs when a seizure will strike and getting in the house turns into a 911 call.

It didn't. And going back out when the artist formerly known as Frau Lobster came to fetch her, Corinna put her Judo expertise into wrangling the stairs. Which didn't help me emotionally even a little bit, it all looked like it was about to go bad in a very serious way, but she said she had it under control and I guess the kid got to the car in one piece so I have to take her at her word for that.

Besides by whim-whams, I'm totally heartbroken my daughter has to go through this. I had my finger almost five years ago, it's still a bit gimpy, but it doesn't hurt anymore. At the time, though, it hurt so bad I almost lost my job from losing my cool (chronic pain at a high level kinda malfunctions your perspective). I remember hoarding my pain pills because they barely touched the pain, but I could take a triple dose before PT and it'd let me push myself further. It was an Ordeal, and that was just a finger. I can't even fathom what an ankle is like, and experience tells me the worst is yet to come: while it's immobilized for the bones to heal is one thing, when you try to get shit to move like it used to, that's a whole other thing.

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