Not My Day

Although my posts usually center around the lives of my children, today’s post is all about me and the horrible, crappy day that I had on Thursday, August 6.  I won’t go into all the little things that happened during the day, but needless to say by the time I went into work that day at noon I had been having a pretty bad day.  I like my new job, and figured working for a few hours might make my day a little better.

It didn’t quite succeed in that but at least it did not contribute to making my day worse.  After work I picked up the kids from my mom’s house and drove to Target to get a couple things for a quick dinner.  That was the first clue that my bad day wasn’t quite done picking on me yet.  As we pull into the parking lot I realized that I had forgotten my purse at my mom’s.  Bad enough that I had driven a few miles down the road with no driver’s license, but I realized that meant I didn’t have any forms of payment on me so I would have to turn around and go get it before we went to get our groceries.

I know that doesn’t seem like much, but I was in a time crunch.  The kids had open house at their school that night which is the time when they get to meet their teachers for the very first time.  And thanks to another issue that had been ongoing for a couple of days we needed to make sure that we got in and out of open house right at the beginning of the night.  Running back to my mom’s meant that I added 20 minutes to my run to the grocery store, but I still managed to get what I needed, get dinner cooked, served, and eaten in time to leave for the open house.

We parked a couple blocks from the school and went through the open house.  We had about 45 minutes to get all our stuff done, which left us 20-25 minutes in each classroom.  Cameron’s took almost half an hour, leaving us not too much time in Kaylee’s, but she had time to meet her teacher and greet a couple of friends that she met last week on the playground.  Soon it was time to go and address the other issue that I mentioned earlier.

You see our house sold the previous weekend but the house that we’ve been looking to buy all summer long was having issues coming to terms with us on a purchase.  Since it did not appear that we were going to come to terms with them, we scheduled some time with our realtor to look at some additional properties.  One of the properties he wanted to show us did not meet all of the criteria of what we were looking for in a house, but it was directly across the street from the school so we agreed to check it out before saying no.

We left the school and walked over to the house where he was waiting for us.  The house was only partially finished and at the stage where we could choose a lot of the finishes.  It had a very nice layout and if there wasn’t one small problem with it we may have considered buying it.  The price and timing were right, but it was lacking the fourth bedroom that we are looking for.  The reason he thought we might still go for it is that the basement would come unfinished and with an egress window already put in, and it had a rough in to put a 4th bathroom down there as well.  With a lot less work to be done there than what it would take to put the same bedroom and bathroom here we weighed our options.  We decided as we finished the tour of the house that building the bedroom and bathroom down there would eat up almost all of the living space down there.  Something that we have grown quite accustomed to here.  Standing in the upstairs hallway we politely declined the house and began to make our way down to the main floor and onto our next stop.

Our realtor led the way down the stairs, with Matt on his heels.  I came down third with the home builders representative right behind me.  I know I was holding onto the railing coming down the steps because I had just commented to the lady from the builder how much I liked the wood tone.  Immediately after saying that I missed the last step going down to the landing.  I can tell you that this is not the first time that I have done this (nor will it probably be the last), and after watching Brendan do the same thing a few weeks ago I can also tell you it is scary for the people around you to watch you fall like a sack of potatoes.  No matter how many times I have fallen down steps, I have never majorly injured myself.  The closest I came was when I fell down our garage steps (yes the same set Brendan fell down) while holding onto the door handle and wrenched my shoulder pretty good.

This fall was different.  I don’t know if I landed just right or if I was already starting to turn the corner on the landing, or the fact that the stairs were not yet carpeted and therefore didn’t cushion my fall.  But even as I was falling and hitting the ground I knew this was no ordinary fall.  I felt my leg bone crack, and the pain that wracked my body once I was on the ground was so severe I knew there was no way I would be able to stand up on my own.

For the second time in less than a month my poor husband had to dial 911, and my poor realtor had to bear witness to the madness that ensued.  A few painful hours in the ER confirmed what I already strongly suspected.  I’d cracked my fibula bone right below my knee.  They said given the amount of pain I was in and the way my leg was positioned after the fall it looked like it was going to be a lot worse.  My pain wasn’t quite done yet.  When I’d fallen my knee was bent and my foot was kindof leaning in to the center of my body.  That position was what seemed to relieve the pain most while we waited for the doctors and then the x-rays.  When they confirmed my leg was in fact broken they had to straighten it out and apply a splint.  By that time I had been given three different pain killers and I still screamed bloody murder as they realigned my leg.  The only other time I’d been in that much pain all night was when the paramedics loaded me onto an inflatable stretcher to lower me down the stairs since I’d fallen on the landing.  Since it wasn’t hard bottomed they had difficulty moving me without jarring my leg, but it was the only way to get me out of the cramped area I’d fallen in.

broken leg

Through the entire ordeal there was only one thought that was going through my mind.  My new job started on that Wednesday.  I had exactly two days of work under my belt.  I was in a splint that went up over my knee and wouldn’t get a full cast until the following Monday.  As tired, sore, and immobile as I was Thursday night I knew there was no way I would make it to work the following day for the meetings and trainings I was supposed to attend.  Monday, while I would be getting my cast on, the kids would be going back to school and the training for my job would be at an end.  I’d be doing the real thing.  I may have only had two days on the job but one thing was for certain mine was a job that could not be done while on crutches.

I called the school, and texted the assistant principal and broke the bad news to them.  I fully expected and understood that I would need to be replaced since it’s not like I had a job that could just go on hold for 6-8 weeks while I healed.  Much to my surprise when I spoke with the principal on that Friday I was not going to be replaced, at least not permanently.  They were going to do everything possible to cover me in my absence so I could heal up and take over my position again.  I can’t tell you how gratifying it was to hear that.  Thankfully I don’t need my job so if they had ended up replacing me it wouldn’t have caused problems for us, but I want what’s best for the kids I work with to and they need someone at school doing the things that I’m supposed to be doing.  I would have held the school no ill will if they made the decision to offer my position to someone else.  I could always apply again when the timing was right.  But now that’s not even an option.

As for the move, we are still trying to figure out what’s going to happen.  We still can’t come to terms with the house we wanted, I’m in no condition to go house hunting and find us another place to live, leaving us with the very scary option of trying to get out of the contract that we signed with the buyers of our house.  We are firm believers that everything happens for a reason, and for whatever reason it looks to me like we were meant to stay in this house for a bit longer.


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