Incapacitated

Merriam-Webster defines incapacitate as thus:

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On the 5th, I had an accident at home. (For those following this blog, it was the night of the Ebola Pepper incident I blogged of earlier in the week.) The details are unimportant. The end result was I had sliced open my toe, cannot drive or walk, and must use crutches while wearing one of those clunky medical shoes to keep my foot still. The placement of my wound made it impossible to suture, and instead I was basically super glued closed and sent home.

Medication wise, I was given an antibiotic and a pain killer/acetaminophen mix. The initial antibiotic prescribed was a cephalosporin, which I am allergic to. When I raised the alarm and pointed out my chart clearly said ALLERGY, they went to get another one prescribed. During this time, the painkiller they had finally remembered to give me (3 hours too late) had kicked in. When they came back, with a new script for antibiotic, It was a penicillin derivative that, now that I have taken myself off it for over 24 hours, I can see that I no longer suffer the rash side effect. Now, when I’ve had antibiotics done by IV, I don’t have these problems. Ah well, I digress.

The fact is, since this happened I can hardly even get to the bathroom. What little I CAN do, my husband won’t LET me do. I hate feeling useless. I can’t stand not being able to do hardly anything for myself other than take a piss and reach for stuff near me. On the plus side, both he and my mum are now seeing exactly how much and what I do around here. For instance, laundry has not been done since Halloween, and Fridays are laundry day every week. I can’t drive, so couldn’t go do laundry. (We do not own a washer and dryer currently.) Trash has not been taken off since last Tuesday. The dump is closed on Wednesdays and I couldn’t drive by Thursday so….

Then there’s the grocery store trips. We are nearly out of milk and bread. I cannot go buy any. We are nearly out of the major lunch portions of my son’s lunches. Again, I can’t drive so I can’t go get them. I have trouble standing in the kitchen to cook, so my husband is having to do it. I have trouble getting our son’s meals together, again. Husband has to do it. Anything with driving and not within walking distance, my mum has to do it.

And by the end of the day, they’re both complaining that there’s just no time to do anything. My mum had 5 kids, so I don’t know what she was expecting. Unfortunately for me, I have a conscience and I feel horrible sitting back and watching them both go batcrap crazy trying to carry my load on top of their own.

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