Things got even more broke

My last post was about how I was going to the airport to pick Malcolm up. I was so excited because all I wanted was a hug and for him to go and pick me up so much junk food to enjoy and eat away my sorrows with.

BUT.

THINGS.

TOOK.

A.

TURN.

So I was hopping down the stairs to pick Malcolm up and I fucking FELL AGAIN and landed on my ass on a stair. I fell down about four stairs this time. I sprained my fucking ankle. The pain was so bad I just sat on the stair that I landed on trying not to cry while messaging Malcolm “yeah I’m going to be late, I just fell again.”

I finally somehow managed to get through the pain and still make it to the car. By this time I’d realised my foot couldn’t bend up or down but I could still drive. I picked Malcolm up and he was so happy to see me and chatty and I was like UM DID YOU NOT READ ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED. I don’t think he really considered it to be as serious as it was/ he gets really cutely excited and nothing is real except me and how much he loves me and how excited he is to see me.

Oh, I hadn’t eaten all day and it was 3pm because that would entail walking down the stairs. I was going to feed two birds with one hand (do you like my vegan change of phrase?) and pick Malcolm up and get food at the same time. Minimise the potential of me hurting myself. But that failed amazingly well.

Malcolm had to drive because my foot was so sore. This sounds like a standard thing but Malcolm never ever drives. He is banned from driving when I’m with him. He actually hates driving and he gives me anxiety when he’s behind the wheel. He’s been driving me around ever since and I calmly asked him the other day, “Malcolm, I’ve noticed you don’t break when the car in front of you does, do you think you are more aware than the car in front of you?” He goes “I know my car” and laughs. I was like ALL GUYS SAY THAT AND YOU ARE NOT A NORMAL GUY LIKE YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW CARS. Then we died of laughter because it’s so true.

Anyway, Malcolm is driving us home from the airport. He is also super shit at directions so he didn’t even know where to go despite us having driven to the airport numerous times. He’s like “so where are we going?” MACCAS. WE ARE GOING TO MACCAS. It’s kind of a running joke that when I’m frantic and stressed I just need a good ol’ maccas binge. He parks and he’s like “er do you want to just go in to the food court or….?” NO MALCOLM, I DON’T HAVE LEGS FFS. CHECK YOUR ABLEIST PRIVILEGE MATE BEFORE I RIP YOUR HEAD OFF.

On the way home we decided this was definitely a sign I had to move in to Malcolm’s because he lives on the bottom floor of his place with no stairs. Hurray! We packed aka I text Malcolm from the car everything I needed from my house and where it was located while he went upstairs and got it.

We then drove to the hospital. Oh but not the first hospital on the way. We actually drove past four, IN PEAK HOUR because old mate wanted to x-ray me himself at the hospital he works at. Which just so happens to be the most far away.

I can’t really actually be bothered speaking about how much pain I was in or the four hour wait. Or meeting all his fucking smiling colleagues while I’m in so much pain and sadness I want to vomit, plot ways to die and cry-scream all at once. Or how I had a close human to me messaging me questioning if I truly did fall down the stairs or if I just want to sue someone LMFAO (I just have to laugh at this or else I’ll probably self-combust to be honest).

Turns out it was just a sprain. The doctor felt so sorry for me because usually that means you have to immobilise the leg. But I can’t because I need it to use crutches to walk. It was this kind of awkward moment of him kindly saying that’s nothing he can do for me and I just have the worst luck ever.

Let me tell you!! This fucker sprain is so much more painful than the break I endured a few days prior. Give me a broken bone any day. This fucker throbs all day and is out to ruin me.

Malcolm wheeled me to the car. Man, I’ve been in so many wheelchairs this week. And I immediately just cry-screaming in the most ugly way possible. It was a furious cry scream because I knew Malcolm would be back any moment and I was dealing with some hectic anxiety. I was convinced that I couldn’t cry in front of him. What the fuck past me???

The whole car ride home was just me pretending I hadn’t cried furiously. I was just silent. Actually, the whole hospital trip I was silent. Besides when I made a new best friend in four year old fellow ED patient Hayden. He even told me he loved me! After telling me I have a masculine name. He used the word masculine. He is four. I couldn’t even school him on gender based issues or be mad because that’s a big word!

The whole rest of the night I just cried and felt sorry for myself. I just remember constantly saying I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this. I know know what I’ve done. I’ve been a massive fucking tough binch who could happily take this potential sprain and broken leg off someone else the world was thinking of giving this luck to. Don’t worry world, you knew I could handle it. You just tricked me for a good 12 hours there!

Yesterday was my first day without legs. Malcolm has been such a fucking sweet heart. He’s carried me to the bathroom every 20 minutes because I have a shit bladder. He’s carried me upstairs for a bath and re-drained the water after I pissed in it. I have a massive speech like PARTS PER MILLION PEE DOESN’T MATTER but then he told me you normally pee like half a litre. He said I’ve never done anything to gross him out before but I won this time. Yay. This is coming from a couple who pick each others nose. Whatever, don’t judge me. I’m a grooming monkey still, I haven’t progressed.

Malcolm cannot cook. I don’t have a dad LOL HILARIOUS JOKE AT MY OWN EXPENSE but I think he’s like a dad whose like “yeh okay so it’s pancakes for breakfast… at the cafe! Love me kids. I don’t spend any time or emotional labour on you and I leave everything for your mother because I am a sexist pig but love me because pancakes at the cafe! See I do care about you!” Yesterday we got brunch out and then we had Vietnamese for dinner because Malcolm “didn’t feel like cooking.” Code word for I don’t wanna let you know I can’t cook and I want you to think I’m being sweet. Okay, I’m not complaining at all. I just love hanging shit on Malcolm. That’s our relationship.

I’m surprisingly taking this so good. I woke up yesterday and I was back to my positive self. I couldn’t be jerking off to my own misery any more. I just needed ice-cream and then I’d be sweet. This was such a good idea because ice-cream actually makes everything better.

So here’s a picture of me coping. I decided I wanted to wash my hair at 3pm yesterday and I couldn’t wait. Malcolm didn’t have time to take me upstairs for a bath so I did what any self-sufficient gal would do and DIY-ed the shit out of my situation. Nothing an oil-free scalp and soft as heck hair can’t fix!

Do you wanna know something else that is cool? Malcolm arrived home with a cold. He’s home from work sick today. Guess who know has a sore throat? I get particularly angry about people being near me with colds because to them it’s a two day inconvenience but for me it’s a month long of hell. I don’t have an immune system like everyone else. Just CFS things. Obviously, I don’t care because it’s Malcolm but it’s just another hilarious thing to add to the “shit got more broke real fast” story.

Today I woke up with a sore throat and I felt soooo heavy, I was like “fuck here we go” in my head. I cannot stay awake today. I am soooooo sleepy! I was seriously wondering why because despite all of this shit, my CFS has actually been really good. But then I had a BAM moment where I realised I can’t stay awake because I’m getting sick so my body has decided to shut down. This is how it goes but then I still get super sick and it feels like death is calling me. But I’ll play along and pretend my body is just healing itself for now. Take the little things when you can pals.

OMG Malcolm just got home from gym. I told him Bindi has been scratching and he goes “I’ll wash her tonight… after I wash you” in this seductive voice. I am actually about to die. That is just too fucking hilarious and I had to include it right now to add to this blog of hilarity that is my life.

I feel like this blog is all over the place and to be honest, that is like my life right now. I just cannot put words together to describe or thank Malcolm. He is the saviour of my life. He hasn’t once looked pissed off when I’ve said I needed to pee or I’m hungry or I’ve lost my hair tie (this is something that happens about 5 times a day).

His parents called today and in the first sentence I heard my name (they speak Chinese). When Malcolm got off the phone he said his parents had made me all this food and wanted to bring it up from the Gold Coast. They also asked if I needed money to get take away since I can’t cook food or walk. I COULDN’T EVEN CRY. I WANTED TO BUT LIKE IT WAS TOO MUCH SHOCK OF “how do such good angel people exist?” THAT I COULDN’T. How are they real? Malcolm acts like it’s normal but it’s certainly not. I know this because I have people questioning if I really fell down the stairs or if I just want money from a compensation claim. I KNOW THIS. I KNOW THEY ARE SOMETHING ELSE. THEY ARE OUT OF THIS WORLD SOMETHING ELSE ANGELS.

In all of this shit, I feel like I’ve really found out who my true friends are. The true humans who carry a little bit of my soul in their soul and feel pain when I do.

That is something that I cannot be sad about.

Value your legs today and tomorrow please! Do it in my honour.

Codii + Bindi (who are both getting baths tonight!)

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