Hello, my name is Marey and I’m the “Mother-in-Law”.  I like to think that I’m not the clinche’d horrible mother-in-law depicted in all the books and movies.  I recognize that my daughter-in-law is the best thing to ever happen to my son.  If it weren’t for her he would be eating poorly, drinking heavily, smoking, chasing women and driving around like a madman. (Well, in all fairness, he DOES still drive like a madman!!#%##!!!) He tells me that I taught him to drive efficiently and I did.  I taught him how to get Mommy to work on time in bad traffic. That doesn’t mean that I want him driving screeching around corners all the time. Sometimes it’s necessary to drive fast — but, most of  the times, it’s not.  Don’t get me started.

In addition to her being a wonderful wife, who truly loves and puts up with my son  –  she also has provided me with two beautiful grandchildren.  Of course, she has her trials.  Neither one of the kids likes to sleep.  The older one is an extremely busy and precocious child. The baby is a royal pain in the A$. He cries all the time and is rarely happy.  His daddy was the same way.  It really wasn’t until he was about 2 1/2, when I started to do “Day Care”, that he became consistently happy.  I don’t think that will be a problem because the baby already has a big sister (so, he has a built-in playmate). After he starts walking around and begins to understand that he DOES have a choice in how he spends his life, he will be happier. Right now he cries one minute and is laughing the next.

I recently  had an accident.. And, today I mentioned to my Daughter-in-law that I needed a forum to tell people about my trials.  Laura graciously offered me the opportunity to write a “Guest Post” on her blog. So, here goes:

Last Wednesday morning I had an appointment with a “Personal Trainer” at my workout center to train me on the use of the exercise equipment.  As I walked into the center for my appointment, I noticed that there was a ladder near the front door.  It made me curious to think why they had put the ladder up.  Now, was the roof leaking or was it routine maintenance for the downspouts, etc. I wonder about such things.  Anyway, I walked in the workout center, signed the “Guestbook” and stood waiting for a minute.  Since I was predictably late, I thought, “OMG, am I too late?”  Then, “Nah, I just talked to Logan a few minutes ago.”  I then looked down at my feet and realized that I had on a pair of “dress shoes” and not “tennis shoes”.  Well, why don’t I just run out to the car and get my shoes out of the car? And, so I left.

As I was walking out, I made sure that I didn’t walk under the ladder because, well, it’s very BAD LUCK to walk under a ladder.  Still wondering about the reason for the ladder, I kept looking and looking at the roof.  As I did so, I stepped into a HUGE crevice in the parking lot that made me take a tumble. I went sprawling face-down in the parking lot, with my purse flying out of my hands.  As I did so, there was ALSO a huge pointy rock sitting on the edge of the crevice which I managed to land on my foot with the full force and impact of a rocket ship landing on the moon.  I felt like crying. It really, really hurt. But, being the trooper that I am, I limped into the workout center for my scheduled appointment.

I found Logan and he told me to go warm up on one of the Cardio machines.  I went into the locker room, changed my pants, and put my shoes on.  I then chose the Cardio machine that would hurt my foot the least (which was the bicycle machine). When I was done, I told him I was ready and  apologized to Logan about a dozen times for limping around like I was.  At this point, I had taken my shoe off because it was just too painful to keep it on.  I went through the workout and then changed my clothes. I wasn’t yet ready to face the world because my foot just hurt so doggone much.  I sat down and had a complimentary cup of coffee. Then I limped on out of there to my car.

I went home, ate something and then got ready for work.  On the way to work, I called my boyfriend and told him I was hurt. He’s like, yeah. Whatever.  I’m sick. I have the flu and I’m not going to work.  Boo Hoo. Big Prissy Boy!!!  I was counting on him to bring my stuff up from my car and then to park it for me. I frankly didn’t know what to do. I work for a really, really, really, really, really (I can’t put in enough “reallys’.) horrible telemarketing organization.  I’ve called in sick maybe three or four times in the entire year. We don’t get paid “sick time” if we don’t work and I knew there would consequences if I didn’t show up for work.

I parked in front of the call center and called my boss from my cell phone.  He answered the phone angrily, “YES Marey????”  I was all of ONE minute late and already he was ticked off.  Anyway, I told him that I was parked outside the Call center but couldn’t come in because I hurt my foot and needed someone to park my car. (The parking lot is a half block away.) That’s not very far if one’s foot doesn’t hurt, but you know. My supervisor told me he’d be right down to park my car. He was actually nice about the whole thing.  I still had to haul up my large bag full of work stuff, my 50-pound purse and a gallon of water. I did the best I could.

I had brought ice bags with me to ice up my foot, but I constantly had to walk all the way into the break room (to the refrigerator) to retrieve them. Then, I had to walk to the bathroom constantly. I kept my foot up as much as possible.  At seven o’clock, I usually have a woman that used to work there make me a plate of food ’cause she cooks for a “Group Home” now and is a really good cook.  She always make me go down to fetch it. But today, I called her and begged her to bring my food upstairs.  She complained, but complied. But, when she got there, she took one look at my foot and accused me of “faking it”.  I quite didn’t know what to say. My foot really, really hurt and I thought maybe it was broken. I even said so. She said,”No, if it was broken, you would feel sick to your stomach and be throwing up.”  I don’t know about such things.  She made me feel like a total loser.

Also, the other women at work put their two cents in.  They said that I needed to soak it in Epson Salts after work. ‘Course I don’t have Epson salts at my place. So, when I was done working at eleven o’clock, I trudged into Walmart.  My foot hurt a lot , so I asked the “Door Greeter” if I could have one of those electric carts. It drove really slow.  It drove me crazy going so slowly.  But,. it was better than walking on my foot.  I bought a bunch of stuff, paid for it, lugged it upstairs to my TWO-STORY apartment dwelling, put everything away and went to bed.

When I got up the next morning I cried when I put any weight on my foot. I had an “Electolysis appointment at 10:30 a.m. so onward I went.  It really hurt badly and I could barely make it in the place.  After my Electrolysis appointment, I called a doctor and got an appt to see him in the afternoon. I wisely decided to pick up some fast food from the McDonald’s Drive-Thru.   God Bless America for “drive-thru’s”. Never really utilized them before, as I prefer to walk into the eating establishment.

As soon as I got to the doctor’s office, I begged for a wheelchair and they gave me one. To make an extremely long and idiotic story shorter, the doc said that I broke my foot in two places and showed me the ex-ray. I hadn’t felt sick to my stomach until I DID see the ex-ray. That happened last Wednesday. Every time I think about it, I feel sick to my stomach. The doc said that I have to stay off of it, ice it regularly, and keep it elevated. He said that I have to take off from work for the next “whatever”. That I’m to see the Orthopedic Surgeon as soon as the swelling goes down. He said if I put any weight on it, then it would make the “break” worse.  I felt really foolish not going to the doctor immediately. But, how am I supposed to know what a “broken anything” feels like??? Plus, my absolutely horrible employer.

Let me explain:  One of my co-workers, who was in the hospital for two weeks getting continuous intravenous anti-biotic treatment for an infection in her diabetic foot (they thought they would have to amputate her foot), just had told me the day before that they threatened to fire her if she didn’t come back to work soon.  Another co-worker WAS recently fired because her husband beat her and she took off for a month to be in a “Woman’s Shelter”, Soo, you can understand my reticence to take off from work. Well, maybe you can’t. But, I have rent to pay and ecetera.

After the swelling goes down, they’ll put a cast on it. I have to tell you I’m pretty scared about that. It hurts to touch it and it looks absolutely horrible and  black and blue and all.  The doc also said that I have to cancel my planned trip to Las Vegas. My boyfriend recently bought two “non-refundable, non-transferable” airline tickets to Vegas for December 20th.  I had asked my boyfriend to please buy the “Travel Insurance” offered with the airline tickets. I said to him, “What if I get the flu or something and can’t go with you?”  He ignored me and, like a foolish man, he refused to buy the travel insurance. Typical.

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