"Walking cast"

edit 1/21/11:  i get a ton of google searches looking for information about walking casts. here is my short list of answers:

• my walking cast was all the way to my knee. 
• i wore the walking cast all day  and all night. i did not want to accidentally kick my foot or hit it on something. 
• walking up stairs was hard, but i did it fine. it just took some muscle toning to be able to do well.
• yes, i used crutches with the walking cast for about a week. it took that long to be able to put any weight on my foot. 
• i had muscle soreness because it forced my foot/leg to be constantly flexed. my calves felt like they were on fire, but so did my shins, hamstrings and quads. i discovered butt muscles i did not know i had.
• i found that the tighter the cast, the better. the worst feeling was having the cast be loose, because then it acted as a weight, pulling on my injured foot like a dumbell.
• i was only able to drive with my walking cast because it was on the left foot. i could not drive a manual transmission, but did fine with my right foot and an automatic transmission.
• wearing a shoe on the non-injured foot with a similar heel height (about two inches) helped me walk properly.
• i kept the walking cast (i didn't have smelling issues) just in case. it was an expensive investment with no insurance, and my dad was able to use it a few years later.
• here is a bad quality picture of the walking cast i used:

Well, a few months ago (ok, so in July :) I broke my foot at Girls camp. I stepped off a bridge, expecting to step onto a rock, but instead stepped into nothing for about 6 inches. I twisted my ankle, scraped up my leg badly, and apparently also got a compression fracture in my heel. Being the incredibly proud person I am (and because I had been getting after the girls all week to not wear slippers or shorts around camp, and I had been doing both) I got up and walked it off. Not a good idea in the long run.

Fast forward to Monday. I woke up with a really weird cramp in my foot that, throughout the day spread all over the bottom/back of my foot. Eventually, it spread into my leg, where I would get shooting pains from the tips of my toes to my hip. It was pretty much the worst pain I can imagine (and if childbirth is anything like it, I'm getting the epidural the minute I walk into the hospital)

I went into the emergency room at about midnight monday night, and sat there until 5:00 am Tuesday, for them to tell me basically there was nothing they could do, I needed to see a specialist. So, I went to work with crutches at 7:00 am that morning (thank goodness my mom works at my same work or I would have never gotten through the morning) until they could find someone to come in for me.

Well, I went in on Wed to see a podiatrist, and he told me basically that I had a compression fracture, probably from July when I fell at girls camp, and because I've been walking on my toes for the past couple months (because my foot was broken), I now had a spasm-ing muscle in my leg, which explained the pains shooting up my entire leg. He gave me a "walking cast" to wear 24/7 for the next three weeks, and a really cool shot that numbned my spastic muscle. Then he sent me on my merry way, explaining that I could go to work, walk around, do basically everything, so long as I had my magical walking cast on.

Little did he mention that because I have this wonderful walking cast (which goes from a full two inches past my toes up to my knee and weighs about three pounds itself) my hamstrings would basically be constantly flexed, and until I learn to deal with the new muscle soreness, I will probably still be hobbling around on crutches. He also failed to mention that it would be virtually impossible to find a comfortable position for my leg to rest where all my muscles are not flexing simply to hold it there. He did not mention that my foot would either feel like it's just sliding around inside a really big rain boot or being crushed in some cruel torture attempt--there is no happy-median. Either my muscles are too sore and weak (I'm using leg muscles I never knew I had) to lift my leg up onto the bed, or they are cramping too badly for me to stretch out my leg. I just can't get it right. So, today I am going to work in my new and lovely "walking cast" but I'm taking the crutches, and we'll see just how much walking I really get in. :)

On a happier note, here's (or I guess Up there ^) my new favorite picture of Jenna Lee. I have an admission to make about the poor girl. When she was first born, I thought she was pretty boring. (which is one of the good/bad things I got out of being a nanny. I am definitely NOT baby hungry anymore) But, now she's starting to smile more, be awake more, and just be all-around cuter. Anywho, here's my new favorite pic of her!

Olly olly oxen free!

Well, I guess that phrase does not work with this game of tag.

(side note that might count as the seventh thing you didn't know about me: I have lived almost 22 years of my life honestly thinking that "olly olly oxen free" is how it's spelled. I had to have Pene tell me last night that it's actually "All ye, all ye oxen free"... That's kind of embarassing to admit. Now I know how Susan went so long saying Alblum ;)

I've been tagged by Pene

RULES OF BLOG TAG

1.The player lists 6 facts/habits about themselves - try to find 6 you haven't already posted about!

2. At the end of the post, the player tags 6 people and posts their names, and then goes to their blog and leaves them a comment, letting them know they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog for the rules

Six things you never knew you didn't know about me...

1. As much as I try to not think about it/pretend the girls I work with are not right, I just can't help but thinking that the treatment center I work at is either a scary movie just waiting to happen, or haunted... especially late at night after they've all gone to sleep... (before it was a treatment center, the building was a hospital of some kind...The only thing I've ever heard about the hospital is that a girl I work with's mom was once a patient there for her psychosis...)
2. I tell people that I am allergic to raisins because they always take it better than if I tell the truth.. "No, Thank you. I would not like one of those cookies; I would honestly rather starve than eat raisins." The only problem is that I never know what to say when they say things like "that's so odd that you can have grapes, but not raisins!" Yeah. Tell me about it =)
3. I am incredibly OCD. The highlighters and white board markers in my desk are all arranged perfectly in order of the color spectrum (rainbow) and I honestly cannot concentrate on anything else if I know that someone has misplaced one of them. The single most obnoxious thing for me is programs (like for Sacrament meeting) that are not folded perfectly. I'd rather throw them away than sit for an hour with them in my lap, knowing that they are imperfect. Along the same note, if someone takes one of the markers (and throws off the perfect balance), I have to throw away any extras that are left to restore balance.... I'm so weird.
   
4. Masey slapped baby Jenna Lee across the face the other night. (really hard!) At the time, I had a hard time not thinking Masey should be hit back, but now I struggle with not laughing when I think about it...
   
5. I love long drives. I like to go to the top of a valley/mountain and just stare out for a while. It's incredibly therapeutic to see life from that perspective.
   
6. I have a love/hate relationship with singles wards. I refuse to believe that I'm as desperate as some of the people I've seen at singles wards; therefore I refuse to attend one. But, at the same time, the pickings at the family ward are pretty slim! =)
   

Well, that's it for me!
Tag! I tag... Dara, Karyn, Garan's Jessie, and My Mamma (I really don't know anyone else who has not been tagged!)

An admission

So, I've been really missing my Grandma lately.

Part of me feels like way too much time has gone by, and I need to just get over it, but at the same time, part of me never wants to get over it. I want to mourn forever.

The other night, I just had a long, stressful day at work and I really needed to just decompress. So, I quickly ran through the options of what to do in my mind and decided I really needed to talk to my Grandma. I guess it's an improvement that I did not have the chance to pick up my phone before the realization hit me. It was a really sad way to end an already stressful day, but I was able to store away that disappointment until I read Chris' blog today. So much of me wanted to comment, to add some small insight into my Grandma, the best example of womanly virtue I've ever encountered. I could not, though. Chris' words were too perfect. How do you add to such prose?

So, with tearful eyes, I decided instead to post this. It really has no use for anyone but myself as a vent for my emotions, but it feels really good to admit;

I miss my Grandma.

Are you marrying a girl or boy?

So I work with youth, and I'm (obviously) learning a lot about the sadness in the world, but also a lot about growing up nowadays.

The title of this blog came from a group of girls who were playing the Game of LIFE today. Apparently, one had landed on marriage, and for everyone in the group, it was a logical question; "Are you marrying a girl or boy?"

Now, you see, when I was younger, it was just a given that if you were a girl, two things would happen while playing the Game of LIFE:
A) Your "person" in the car would be pink, and
B) You would marry a blue (man).
If you were a boy, it would be the exact same, only opposite.

There was never any question about it, and I never remember thinking twice about it. Now, I hear these girls ask each other "are you marrying a girl or a boy?" and they think absolutely nothing of it.

I guess it's just another sign of the times. We are truly living in the last days.

Jenna Lee

Well, it's official! The Princess has (finally!) arrived!

7 lbs, 5 oz. 19.5 inches of cuteness! (and yes, if any of you remember Moses at this age, they might as well be twins. )

Life, the Universe and Everything...

So, when I quit my nanny job, I had all these idealized visions of life in back at my parents' house (I had been gone from home for so long that everything was idealized, including me in my family's eyes.) I would spend my mornings taking the little Monster of the house on walks, going to see Michelle almost every day, being absolutely absorbed in Small Brother's life and school, and just all-around being there, helpful and adored. I would, under no circumstances, think about or miss the Small Children I nannied for, nor would I regret my decision.

Well, let's fast forward to the reality of three weeks later. I've been to Chris and Michelle's house (LITERALLY one block away.) exactly two times. I spend more time sleeping every morning than having idyllic walks with the little Monster, I have yet to attend church because my "off" Sunday fell on Conference weekend, and all that has come to pass with Small Brother's schooling is a decision that he is going to be home schooled at least until the end of his 8th grade year. I find myself missing and thinking about the Small nannied Children, and I definitely feel like I have not seen Big Boy Mo for years. Do I regret my decision, though? I think I'll go with, Ask me again after I get my first full paycheck =)

It's funny how we always seem to have such good intentions, such grand plans in the beginning. Life usually has another plan, though! Not always worse, not always better. Just a whole lot different than you expect.

17 inches

Wow. I knew I'd be glad to have my hair (or most of it) gone, but at the same time, I almost miss it already. What can I say, I'm an odd one :)


Here are some after pics. (After the initial cut, not after it's been evened out) Sila, true to form, did not notice anything at all (why are you shaking your head around?) But the funniest reaction I've gotten so far was from the baby of the house (who was observant enough to notice 17 inches of missing hair). His favorite pastime has been to grab handfuls of my hair and play "Giddy up" with them. Well, tonight, just after I cut my hair, he reached up, grabbed a fistful of hair and ran his hand down the length of it. When the hair stopped after only a few (OK, probably 12) inches, he gave me the most shocked/offended face. He had to investigate the rest of my hair, and once he had and realized it was ALL short, he just turned away from me. I guess I'm just not that interesting anymore. :)