Dear Doctor

I would have left this thing on my leg for 24 hours a day. I would have kept it up, iced, and taken lots of pain killers. I would have lounged in my bed sipping tea and been waited on hand and foot by DH and a gaggle of mostly grown children. I would have done it all exactly as you told me to… if reality hadn’t slapped me in the face!


Let’s get real here for a moment. I have a husband who leaves the house at 7-ish in the morning, who doesn’t usually return until 7-ish in the evening. As understanding as he is, he can only stand frozen pizza or takeout food a couple of times a week. He is a man. He needs to eat. Food. I have kids who have lives. Yeah, really. I have three dogs (two who are VERY ACTIVE 11-week-old puppies) and four cats all whose lives depend solely on me. I have a job that nobody else can do… not even the guy who is supposed to be my backup and who (whom?) I have written a detailed three-hundred page manual of my job so if I were to be hit by a truck he could take over the position. Until then, he needs hand-holding. I have a beautiful home that doesn’t not stay that way without some attention. Need I say more? I know my dear readers can all relate.

We won’t even mention Christmas or two of the kids’ birthdays and one grandchild birthday all within the space of three weeks centering around Christmas. No, that would be overkill.

Please, dear doctor… tell me when I was supposed to do all this resting you perscribed? That’s what I thought.

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Middle-aged. Anti-social. Mom. Grandma. Town-raised farmer's wife. Iowan. Want more? Come read the blogs.

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