The roller-coaster of recovery – Day Two.

A straight flight of stairs, somewhere in the ...
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Thursday morning dawned. I was sitting at the computer desk working when Princess Girl called down and asked if I was awake. I went upstairs to help her get out of bed and through her morning routine. I was delighted to hear she was not feeling the least bit dizzy.

She was, however, feeling itchy. Huh? ‘On my leg mom. It itches really bad.’ She pulls her pajama pant leg up to her thigh. ‘Look.’

Oh great. She has a rash emerging from the top of her cast. It covers the entire circumference of her knee. And there is a lovely streak shooting straight up the center of the back of her thigh. She says it goes all the way down inside her cast too.  I cover it with dry gauze and tell her to be tough. There is not one thing we can do about the itchies inside her cast. A couple times throughout the day I put hydrocortisone on the rash, but it doesn’t really seem to help.

Overall, it’s a pretty quiet day. She keeps her foot elevated. I cook and clean and swab the decks. Or at least deliver her lunch to her and help her into the bathroom periodically.

At midnight I awake to what I thought was a crash. Fortunately, it was only PG pounding on the floor above my head with her crutch. Her leg is very swollen inside the cast; she is in a lot of pain. I get her re-situated. We prop that leg WAY over her heart. I lay with her for a while to calm her. To make sure her pain is starting to ease. Then I head back down the stairs to my own room, my own bed.

In my groggy state, I somehow misjudge where I am on the stairs. I think I’m at the bottom when in reality I am still one stair up. I feel myself floating briefly in the air before gravity takes over and I sprawl face first on the living room floor. Dear God. Is anything broken? Can I move? Crap that’s going to hurt tomorrow. Ow, that hurts right now! I limp, shuffle, crawl to my bed.

4 AM. It’s that damn pounding waking me up again. Who keeps doing that? A few more seconds awake and, oh crap. It’s Princess Girl. She sounds very distressed. I rush up the stairs. In her groggy state, she tried to get up and walk to the bathroom. She only made one step before the pain showed her the error of her ways. Now she can feel her heart beat in her ankle. I get her re-situated, again. I lay with her for a while, again. This time when I head back down the stairs I am painfully careful of each of my steps.

Thankfully we both managed to sleep for what was left of the night.

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