I Snapped my Achilles tendon at Autozone....Now What?

I’m sitting here, facing a year of recovery after shredding my achilles tendon.  It’s not something I expected, though the end result is always going to be the same.  I have to self-rescue, and the same has been happening already, even though it’s been about nine days since the incident.

It could happen to anyone:  step outside of a local business and catch your foot on a mat, then fall forward, snapping the tendon.  I never hit the ground, though I heard a pop, and next thing you know, I’m sitting on a pallet of oil absorber explaining to my boss that I just ruptured my tendon.  How did I know?  Well, you ever see the end of a chicken drumstick after baking when the main tendon draws up past the bone?  Before the swelling set in, it looked like that.  Gross.  Her response?  Worker’s comp won’t cover it because I was picking up coolant for my overheating car, you know, that gets me to work.  Fine, don’t care, I LITERALLY JUST BROKE THE BIGGEST TENDON IN MY BODY!

It doesn’t hurt much, and that in itself is a cause for concern for me, being as I am always in pain.  That’s the one constant that has been in my life even at a young age.  Pain has defined my entire existence, whether it is physical pain, emotional pain, or spiritual pain, and yes, there is a whole world of spiritual emotions that hopefully I will get to here, but for right now, physical pain stands the highest in my list of concerns, as I go today to pick up my prescriptions and I see what they issued me.  I’m scared, because even when I broke my back, they didn’t give me the type of medications I’m going to spend eighty bucks out of pocket today to procure.  If they’re expecting that much pain, I’m cooked.  As I’ve said before, I self-rescue out of necessity. 

You’ve heard me discuss this in my poorly recorded podcast, how alone I am, how I took care of the man who dated another woman, his lesbian roommate, for years and eventually married her while alienating me from my friends and family, thus creating the self-rescuing avoidant attachment nutjob you see before you.  Well, this man that I love, that I have been caring for and begging to get on disability, now has to care for me the next ten weeks.  TEN WEEKS.  I’m cooked.

It won’t be easy, nor fun, and he’s already slipping.  I got the house wheelchair ready in a couple of days working in said wheelchair to clean and widen areas enough to help me get to the door.  We have no running water, either.  No toilet.  Dad gave me an ultimatum back in April that we had to leave, then in May gave me two weeks.  Well, my Christian idiot self decided I’d go with him to get him to go, because he wasn’t going to leave unless I did, and it was wrong to leave a man who can’t walk in these conditions.  We’d have water at the outside spigot.  Eventually, we’d get it inside, just needed to get a plumber.  Both were wrong, so very, very wrong.  This place is hell, a post-hoarder apocalypse that’s as cursed as I am.

The first plumber we got ditched us after seeing how the house looked, janky, post-hoarder man mom's old place, and dark, with a water seepage problem because the drainage ditch to our mud room is full, and after almost three years of being abandoned because of my partner’s illness, it’s grown up.  Fine, I’m a landscape specialist, no worries there.  I’ll get to it….or no, I won’t.  He said he’d be back with a quote and then ghosted us.  Not cool, Tyler, it’s a trash place, but I guarantee I can’t get it better without a way to pipe in water or not poop in a bucket.  Thanks a lot.

Then I figured I’d just build an off-grid shower stall setup.  I have the things, all the camping things, and the fittings to do the framework.  Nope.  Lowe’s ghosted me when I went to pick up a cutter to cut my pipes to size to fit in my Fiat 500.  It was 106 degrees on my dash when I left and canceled the order.  I’ll just shower at the gym and haul water from the spigot.  Right?  Wrong.  No water is getting from the meter to the spigot, and my wonderful, Journeyman Plumber husband to be plumbed that himself, and it was working when he left here…

I’m tired, boss.  No cap.  On top of all this bull I have been dealing with sciatica from my back injury years ago, so things haven’t progressed the way I’d like, and now, I’m forced to do nothing, for months.  MONTHS!

I’m probably gonna die.

Most likely I will, and in all this, how do I keep up my fitness goals to be a personal trainer and nutrition coach and help others who have struggled to lose weight finally make it?  I mean, if you want a jumping off spot, I suppose this is the thing to launch my career if I can go through all this malarkey and still get there at the end. 

So my fans, if I have any fans, I leave you to your good legs and high hopes, and remember, ask the bees.

They don’t know.  :}