Just add Demerol

My brain has left the building; I feel dumber than a bag of hammers. It must be the Demerol. I try not to take it all the time, but when my ankle starts hurting or hurts too much to sleep and enough time has elapsed, I take another one. People call me and I can barely carry on a conversation. I feel like reading a book is too much of a commitment; a magazine or a catalog is plenty. I have watched more bad TV in the last week than I care to even document. Usually, I have the laptop on at the same time as the bad TV and either go on Facebook or look at stuff I'd like to have but can't afford. I've spent many hours surfing Ebay. Yesterday I searched things that had "ugly" in the item description--ugly shoes, ugly lamp; it's a fairly entertaining time-killer. Give it a try sometime.

My cast itches worse by the day and it feels kind of loose now. My ankle just feels generally weird. I know there are screws in it, but they are the kind that absorb into the tissue and don't have to be removed. I swear I can feel them in there; I think the doctor cautioned me this would happen. It's hard to remember everything, but my week-after-surgery appointment is tomorrow. It will be my first time attempting to leave the house with the scooter. I believe this infernal cast will be removed on this momentous occasion, replaced by a Velcro-trimmed boot of some kind, which I will have the option of removing from time to time.

Wow. When the sum total of my dreams is equals washing my leg--lotion being the shining cherry on the cake of said dreams--I have no choice but to conclude: Yes. It is the Demerol.