Sean hurt his foot last Monday night. Like, REALLY hurt his foot. A realtor was coming over at 6:00 to show our house, so we were getting ready to leave for the hour. Sean was worried someone would trip over our cable line in the bedroom, so he was taking it out of the wall. Owen decided this was precisely the time to roll on the bed, and off the edge. I caught him by an ankle, yelled for Sean, who then leapt across our room, over the bed, and caught Owen. As he pulled Owen to safety, he began screaming in pain that his foot was broken. After I called my mom (isn't that what you do in emergencies?), I got an ice pack for his foot. I was just in auto-pilot mode at this point. (Side note: Owen did NOT fall off the bed.) My mom and dad showed up at our house, and my dad helped Sean down the stairs and into the car, on the way to the ER. So, there we are, Mom, Dad, Sean, Owen and I, hanging out in the ER. Kaiser is known for long waits, so Mom and I took this opportunity to grab some dinner in the cafeteria.
After several sets of x-rays, poking, prodding and Sean saying he was about to pass out from the pain, it was determined that his bones BENT in the wrong place. They didn't break, but just got bent. Ouch. The doctor said that Sean jumped so hard and so fast to get Owen, that instead of the foot bending at the ball (like on your tip toes), it bent in the middle. They sent us home with Codeine, crutches and a boot.
It's been a week. I am exhausted. Sean's foot looks a lot better, but I know he is still in pain. Codeine did nothing, so he's now taking Tylenol or Motrin, depending on his mood. He is hobbling around the house on his crutches, but still is using a shower seat to take a shower in the mornings. Poor Sean.
With one parent disabled, for the time being, I have to really step it up. And it makes me tired. And sad. And depressed. I don't know why I'm feeling sorry for myself while all this is going on with Sean. Maybe because I'm secretly jealous he gets a break from parenting, a hall pass to not have to change diapers or prepare lunches or clean up the dishes after dinner. A permanent fixture on our couch, he has become. Foot propped up on a pillow with an ice pack. And it makes me sad. Owen wants a cracker, Mom gets it. Owen has a dirty diaper, Mom changes it. Owen is tired, Mom gets him to sleep. Owen decides he's had enough green beans and dumps the plate on the floor, Mom picks it up. Mom misses one green bean and there is an attack of ants. Mom cleans it up. Gross. Sean needs Motrin, Mom gets that, along with a cup of really cold apple juice. Sean needs to go to the bathroom, Mom helps Sean off the couch, hands him crutches, and holds her breath while he jumps up the stairs.
Yesterday, I really had had it. I did grocery shopping, Target shopping, put gas in the car, cleaned the litter box and did laundry....all while my dear hubby sits motionless on the couch, watching some crappy movie on tv. I know, I know...this sounds so incredibly heartless. And maybe at this point, I am heartless. I'm tired. I want to pee without Owen. I almost want to just get in my car and drive. Or take a nap. Alone.
I'm hoping, wishing and praying that his foot will feel better soon. Not only for Sean, but for me, too. I just need a break.
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