Big News for Me!

It only took six freaking months but who is counting: I had my last physiotherapy appointment today for my ankle. Check up in six weeks but no more ongoing treatment. I still have to figure out how to get back into my training plan for the running I was doing but NH has enough mad skeelz to do that for me, so no more doctors!

This is totally not the Muslim way to go, but I have to get this off of my chest: I would also like to take this opportunity to give a big green middle finger to my old job, had they not been total buttheads who were sociopathic enough for me to think sacrificing my health was worth it, I could have written this post about three months ago. Let my pain be a lesson to my readers: if your foot hurts, stay home. If they aren’t mad at you about your busted ankle, they will find something else to be mad about because some people are just never happy no matter what and make bad intentions for everyone. I would especially like to single out two people in question who, in a conversation where they had nothing better to do than complain about me, had the nerve to say, “Just because her foot is busted doesn’t mean her brain doesn’t work.” Actually yes it does when you are trying to do the delicate dance between taking enough opiates to not be in pain yet not take so much that you are totally stoned. I would also like to single out a third person, who magically kept losing the documents destined for my bosses, yet managed to keep all her other papers on lock, or so they say. I hope you get what is coming to you for blaming your slack assed ness on me when I was sick, because I don’t know who is left for you to blame, and I don’t know how long your boss is going to keep covering for your dumb slack azz. So if I ever rupture ligaments again I am staying HOME. They can fire me if they want, I’ll eat raw potatoes, I don’t care. I just spent four more months than I should have in total freakin pain, not able to do the hobbies I love, not able to do the hobbies my husband loves, not able to vacuum (another hobby my husband loves but worth stating separately), and just not enjoying life. All because I didn’t take a good three weeks in February and chill. Instead I ran around on crutches for three months and then wondered why my ankle was taking so long to heal and walked with a cane for another two and just as recently as one week ago was using a cane because I was still in pain. In fact, I may still use a cane over the next few weeks, but I have been given the tools I need to progress on my own.

I guess they doubted the validity of my claims about the seriousness of my injury. They thought it was a fat girl sprain. Uh no. All fat girls, and this is scientifically proven, have buff legs because we have to haul our tonnage around. So the reason I was able to walk/limp with three busted ligaments, fools, is because I was in good shape to begin with and had buff legs and could carry the weight on my opposing leg. And they probably doubted the validity of my claims because I didn’t have a dramatic Swissy ski accident. But you know what? It doesn’t matter. They suck and I was right.

Oh and no sanctimonious “you should be grateful you live in a country that protects workers” blah blah. Yeah they protect workers here, I don’t work in Sri Lanka or something, but I still got screwed for having a work ethic and thinking I was doing the right thing by coming into work.

No seriously. Thanks God. Yeah I’m bitter but I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel and am hopeful that my foot won’t be permanently damaged.

Mots-clefs : always the ankles, Thanks God, work sux