2003-04-28 - 8:21 a.m.

I was pretty accurate about this weekend sucking. The weather was phenomenal and I was stuck, inside, with a big ass ice pack velcroed to my ankle.

At 2 this morning, I woke up screaming. No real obvious reason really, just the excruciating pain that suddenly appeared in the top (left side) of my ankle while I was asleep. Now, trying to sleep in a bed with one foot elevated and the other not is tricky, and even trickier if you don't have a Craftmatic Adjustable Bed and are still able to roll around a bit. Hell, Saturday night I parked on the couch and The G, being Mr Compassionate in times like this, slept on the floor next to me so I wouldn't be alone out there. But last night, I was determined to make the bed thing work. The bed kicked my ass and took my name for it's book. At 2, I had to send The Sleep-walking G into the kitchen after a Vicodin and the ice pack. He couldn't find the pain pills. I was sure they were on the counter, next to the myriad of other amber bottles from Targhetto's pharmacy. They weren't. I got out of bed-big mistake-and hobbled out into the hall and then kitchen to see if I could find them. He tried to bring me a Darvoset, but this was Vicodin strength pain and I wasn't playing the pain pill game. I told him to look in my purse, and sure enough, they were there. I had mistakenly put them in there instead of the anti-inflammatories I thought I put in there. I popped my pill with a big cup of orange Gatorade (my new favorite elixer) and crashed. I had him re-set the alarm so I could call my manager at 8 to let her know what happened with the doc and since it rained last night, she figured it was best for me to be off my foot at least one more day before trying crutches on wet pavement.

I'm thinking today might be a cross-stitch and postie making day. From the couch, of course.

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