Hopping Like a Mo-Fo (redux)

First and foremost, I'd like to let you know that my friend Mary (hi, Mar!) is responsible for today's title -- I used the phrase in a conversation the other day, she found it amusing and insisted I use it, and here we are.

The title isn't false advertising, either: I have been hopping all over the place. This means, of course, that my right ankle is rather sore and unhappy but oh, well. After talking with my lovely physical therapist Aaron, we've decided that my right leg likely won't be able to heal completely until I'm up and walking again -- the muscles are just not getting the workout they need, and the constant hopping puts a lot of pressure on things. It's about 80% of the way there -- I can hop and move and whatnot -- and 20% pain, until I'm in rehab and can use BOTH legs/feet again. Hey, considering that just about two months ago when I fell we thought both legs were broken? I'll take it.

Speaking of Aaron the PT pro, he tells me that this Wednesday is our last session: we can't go any further given my current limitations, so he's going to discharge me from home care. No more nurse, no more health aide, and no more in-house PT. I'll still have in-house blood draws, which is very helpful, but that's it. Exciting! And a tad scary.

This past weekend we went to Lori's Natural Foods ("Be good to the Earth -- go to Lori's ...") and to Borders, and then I was totally pooped. All I REALLY want to do is go and get a mocha. Dear God, a Finger Lakes Roasters mocha -- the pinnacle of all things craved for. Sadly, I cannot fit my wheelchair in their door (both the door and shop are really, REALLY small) but I am a junkie: grande non-fat decaff mocha latte, no whip. I'm such a junkie that baristas used to start making me my "regular" as I pulled up, before I even walked in the door. Just ... so good. Hmm, I think I've found my next trip to the "outside."

Oh, and to all who have asked if I'm going to listen to Dr. G and rotate the pin: N. O. I am/have/will not personally rotate (or remove -- dear GOD!) the pin unless I am under duress and something is severly hurting or injured. I'm not a wimp, usually, but ... well, I *am* about this. And I'm ok with that. I am not using my hand, my fingers, my pliers, my husband, my anything to rotate a dang thing -- the only thing I am willing to use deal with the pin is my surgeon. And that's that.