You’d think it would be a pretty easy decision. Someone offers to stab your Achilles with a very pointy injection, you’d straight up say NO FREAKING WAY.
But when it’s suggested in a medical setting, and the theory behind it seems sound, and it’s an option that has minimal recovery time, you’d be more likely to consider it. At least, I was. And while I am currently waiting to see if it was successful, I have to confess that I am left feeling slightly traumatised by the experience.
It hurt. Like a cow. To my credit I only dropped a handful of F-bombs, but if there was any way I could have forced myself through the bed and away from the burning pinch of those fucking injections, I would have.
But really, I know the question that is on your mind: Are those hideous bows visible through the boot?
The answer? A little bit. If you know what you’re looking for.
I still feel the pinch of shame when I think of them.
Anyway, this was me when I got home from the procedure. Keep in mind that it HURT. And that I was currently propped up on pain killers alone. The third fur baby was most likely keeping watch over the park, or waiting at the back door to play:
So the fur babies are helping and the pain killers are helping and the boot is protecting. But as much as I may sound like a bit of a wuss, I have to confess that it was bloody traumatic, just lying there on my tummy while someone inflicted that kind of pain. I got in the car afterwards and had a teary, and it still makes me a bit shaky when I think about it.
I therefore am trying not to think about it.
Instead I am thinking about some different crochet projects I have in mind. And giggling because I often refer to crocheting as hooking, and when I had to fill out some paperwork for Scouts a couple of weeks ago I had to list my interests, and top of the list was HOOKING.
How’s your world shaping up this week?