Well yesterday I was feeling a lot better. I was able to maneuver myself with very little pain. I was hopeful and optimistic. Which of course led to some bad decisions. I stopped taking the vicodin because it gave me crazy itchies that made me feel like I was headed straight for an episode of Intervention. I also decided that it would be a LOT easier if I just went grocery shopping... you know... I could use the cart like a walker.
Long story short I'm in bed for the day.
I told the doctor, yesterday, "I'm an antsy type... so you need to be VERY specific... can I actually make this worse?" Apparently yes. He told me to refrain from sitting as much as possible and just stand. That gets old. And once you're standing it's not too big of a leap to stand in front of the stove... making dinner... which leads to lifting pots and pans... and making grocery lists... and going to the grocery store. You get the picture.
Mr F is big on the feigned reprimands all the while moving out of the way and disappearing to another room to check email... not to be seen again. I can't blame him... but I can't blame myself for thinking that maybe the frozen foods should get put in the freezer... and so I did start unpacking the groceries.
Not being able to do things on my time table is the equivalent of Hell for me. If there is a Hell it is having to wait around while your ADD husband gets things *done* (or not) and having to just sit with it. It's enough to make you yell "Spine Be Damned!" and jump (or slowly roll yourself off the couch wincing... but whatever) and hobble into the kitchen to serve your children some actual vegetables.
The good news is that it doesn't look like I will need surgery. The bad news is that I'm in for a 2 -3 month recovery. The doctor said that while many people hobble in saying they broke their tailbone almost nobody actually does. I'm something of a medical marvel.