I went to my surgeon today, with no idea what he was going to do. People kept insisting that I must be getting my casts off now, since its been three months.
I doubted it. Everything about this damn thing has taken longer then the doctors told us.
It took me longer to be put to sleep for the surgery. It took me longer to be discharged from the hospital. It took me longer to kill off the infection I got. It took me longer to be able to get walking casts. It took me longer to actually use the walking casts. I figured it would be unlikly to be able to go home without any casts on.
But guess what! I was wrong. I no longer have any casts on. I don't have to go to my surgeon for months.
And now I'm depressed. Why? Why why why? Why does it make me depressed? I should be happy. Everyone else is happy. Or at least everyone is acting happy, and those that I texted used excamation points.
I'm hiding in my room now, because if I'm arounf people I'm expected to smile and be happy. And as good as I am at faking a smile, I can't right now.
I can't make myself put any weight on my feet. Not at this point. The doctor says I should be walking without crutches in two weeks at the most, but I doubt it. How can I walk if I can't put pressure on my feet?
Whatever. I'm just down today. It probably has nothing to do with my feet. More likly it has to do that my living room is full of things to put in silent auction prizes for a benefet for a old family friend about to die of brain/lung cancer. That and I only got three hours of sleep last night.
I'm going to go watch some of my Heroes on DVD. For some reason people running around trying to save the world (again and again... and again... and again) makes me feel better.