Friday, June 26, 2009

So I had a bit of an accident yesterday involving a runaway kitten and a hard concrete floor. The result is a swollen knee, a sore back, and a sprained ankle. It's nothing serious, and I'll be fine in a few days, but it brings to the forefront one of the things about me that drives Husband crazy: I'm a lousy patient.

I'm just not good at being sick or injured. I insist on doing all the things I normally do, even though I may be in pain or may feel like death on toast. I'll still try to carry a full laundry basket or make dinner. I'll insist on getting up to get my own glass of water, even though Husband has kindly offered to get one for me. I'm just, generally stubborn.

Many years ago when my best friend Steve was dealing with the first stages of being HIV+ he asked me what I thought he'd be like when he was dying. I told him that I think when people die they act like they do when they have the flu, multiplied by a million. I told him he was pretty pathetic when sick so when he was in the final stages he'd probably drive me crazy. (As it turns out, I was wrong.) And he told me that if my theory was true when it came to be my time I would get up and turn off my own life-support system. He's probably right. I'll insist on doing it myself. "No, don't bother yourself, I can hit the off switch."

I try to be good, honest. I admitted defeat and did not go to cat duty today, the first day I've ever missed. But since it hurts to walk and since I'm using a cane, I figured it would just be stupid to try and carry 18-pound cats around. But I was dressed and ready to go with my keys in my hand before I gave in. And while I did spend most of the day with my leg up and ice on my knee and ankle, I did put some laundry in the washer and put dinner in the oven.

But I have to admit, I'm a gimp. My ankle is definitely sprained (it's happened too many times to the same ankle to mistake it) and I am going to have to be a lazy slug this weekend if I want to make kitten duty on Monday. But I also know that at some point tomorrow Husband is going to look at me and say "what are you doing" as I try to clean the bathroom or sweep the kitchen floor.

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