One Moment

If you could, is there a moment you would go back in your life and change? There probably is. Everyone has a moment when they wish they had done something different, said something different.
I know the exact moment I would go back to.
I would go and back and study my grade nine math test.
Yeah, I know. A math test in grade nine? Really? Not even an exam?
But you know what would have happened if I studied?
I would have been ready for my math test. So I wouldn't have been so distraced that morning that I didn't notice my cat. So I wouuldn't have tripped over him. So I wouldn't have sprained my ankle. So I wouldn't have missed school that day.
And then the next.
And then the next.
And the next.
And on and on it went, until one day I found myself unable to leave my basement, nevermind my house, hadn't seen anyone but my parents, sisters, and two of my friends in months.
Sudenly, it was June, and I hadn't been to school since that day I hurt my ankle in Febuary.
My life has been like that since then. A year and a half later.
A lot of the time I'm unable to leave my home because of my physical pain.
When the physical pain isn't too bad, my phycalogical pain stops me. Anxiety attacks and OCD and paranoia.
Last week I spent 27 hours awake without leaving my room and taped newpaper over my windows to block out the light and baracaded my door. I didn't come out until my mom called a friend of mine and she came over and stood under my window and talked me into coming out.
I'm worried. I don't know what my life is turning into. The group of people I went to school with for ten years are going into grade eleven, and I'm not done grade nine. And how am I supposed to go to school to finish it when I can't leave my house?

Bah. Whatever.

Walking... And I just noticed how many of my post titles start with 'walking'

Hey! Guess what?
I'm walking!
Yes, thats right. Walking. Without crutches, canes, or walkers. Today two of my friends came over and I walked my dog to the park with them. Its actually the feild and playground behind my elementary school, and its only a block away from my house, but still.
We sat on a bench and watched children play, and we remembered times from when we went there. A group of guys I went to school with were sitting behind the generator and when they saw us they came over and were amazed about my hair (it was to my hips for years, and for my surgery I cut it about an inch from my scalp), and wanted to know about my surgery. Which was weird, since I never really spoke to them all that much, but not weird since we were a really small school and we were all together for ten years, and I was always the quiet small girl that was constantly hurting myself and never had real good health, so for some reason everyone would freak out and protect me.
We were a weird group of kids.
I miss it.
Anyways, I'm walking again. Everyone is happy. Things are good. Well, better.
I shall leave it at that, because I had a good day and I'm not going to ruin it by thinking of bad things.
So.

Walking and Pools... and Brothers

So, I'm walking! With crutches, and every night my ankles are twice their normal size, but I'm still walking!
Its really weird. I feel really tall, because I haven't been above three feet for the past three months, and now I'm walking around at over five feet. Only three inches above five feet, but still.
My surgeon said water would help, so now I have a pool in my back yard. Above ground, and awesome. I am in love with it. I just hold on to one of those floating blue boards that you can glide on and walk around. The water goes to about half way up my stomach, so it holds me up enough that I can walk with just that.

So life is really good. Its summer, so my friend (really the only one I have left) isn't busy with school or anything, so I've seen her everyday for the past week. I'm walking again. My grandmother is in town. My annoying sister is in BC for a whole month, so none of her incredibly rude friends are hanging around my house eating our food and drinking my Coke. My littlest sister is being really happy and nice again, and her allergies are under control. My cat is back to normal.
And my long-lost brother has resurfaced.
Yes. My dad had a son when he was 18. He was put up for adoption. He just found my dad. So, you know, yay, I guess.
I hope.

Physiotherapy and Teenage parenthood

So, when my surgeon took off my casts for good, he told me that I wouldn't need physiotherapy, which struck me as sort of odd since I had forgotten how to walk and all.
My dad was also confused by this, so he went by the hospital and booked an appointment with the physiotherapists without asking me or my mom (my parents have been divorced since I was a baby. They are actually still really good friends, like they still talk and get along).
So now I have to go to physio.
I don't really want to. But whatever. I'll go.

In other news, a friend of mine's child was born one month ago today. Its pretty weird to think about that, since a year ago she was sitting behind me in grade nine art class.
Yes. She is 16. And has a child.
I don't know what I think about that. She's raising it alone, living with her dad.

It makes me feel less sorry for myself. I mean, a baby is more work than having CMT. Both are pretty perminate, though.

Duct Tape Solves Everything

Ever heard the saying 'If duct tape can't fix it, your'e scwreded?'. I think I agree. Because my laptop broke, and I fixed it with duct tape. I mean, I now have duct tape wrapped around my laptop, but it works. So duct tape does fix everything.
Except the things that I really need fixed.
Like my feet, which can barely hold my weight, even though I only weigh like 95 pounds.
Like my balance, which currently doesn't exsist.
Like my sister, who is in serious shit.
Like my mom, who has two different types of arthritis.
Like my stepdad, who is in chronic pain and also on the waiting list for pharscription pain medication addiction treatment.
Like my dad, who more or less just quit the job he's had for over 10 years, and is pretty screwed since his truck is broken down in a different city and he's losing hundreds, thousands of dollars on it.
Like my cat, for god's sake, who disapeared for 24 hours and came back terrified and covered in brusies.
Like the fact that no one in my imediate family has a job, and my mom just ran out of unemployment insurance, and my stepdad just got kicked off Workers Comp (I seriously am not surprised people keep shooting them and blowing them up).

Add that all together, and I guess its not so shocking that I woke up today and didn't move for the entire day. I just lay there and considered going back to sleep, but never did.

And now I'm conserned about my freaking mental health.

Oh yeah, and my best friend has voices in her head telling her to do things.

Maybe I ought to buy some more duct tape?

Shoes and Standing

I stood up. For half a second. Then I fell over. Now my feet hurt.
Yet another thing that's taking longer than the doctors said it would.
I have come to the decision my doctor is stupid. No offense to him.
But seriously. Half the things that come out of his mouth turn out to be wrong. Plus, now that I have my casts off and I'm looking at my feet, I think he moved the tendoin in the wrong one. Seriously.

On the upside, he was also wrong about my feet getting bigger after the surgery. Because I tried on an old pair of shoes, and my feet are still the same size, which, depending on the brand of shoes, is anywhere from size 3 to 5. I like having small feet.
Also, I don't need new shoes, which is nice. I could use more shoes (I have a pair of crocs, a pair of army boots, and a pair of flipflops), but I don't need them.
So thats good.

...I'm gonna try and stand up again.

Doctors and Depression

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.