In Sickness or In Health...

Michael's toes are still broken. Not only is it broken but he had surgery to put pins in his toes because they were not healing straight.

So, not only are we a single income household for... Oh, I don't even know how long, probably the entire month of February, but we had to pay a $1,700 copay on the surgery, not to mention the pain med prescriptions (which is only $3) and the copays on all the weekly doctor's visits ($30). Michael said he might need physical therapy (on a toe!?!?) down the line. So, all in all, his broken toe will cost us over $2,000 in medical costs and several more thousands in lost income.

Sheesh.

The financial stress isn't really getting to me (yet?). Thank goodness we have health insurance and thank goodness we have emergency savings. Plus, we should be getting some money back for taxes this year and Michael got several thousands for selling his stock after he left his old company. So, you know, whatever.

However, I would be lying if I said that his injury isn't stressing me out. I am a pretty private person so the fact that he is always there is starting to grate on my nerves a bit. If he was hanging out in his office or in the basement (his "man cave") I think I wouldn't be so frazzled but no. He's plopped himself in our bedroom (which I consider my space). Where am I supposed to go to escape? His office? His basement? It's driving me insane. Those couples who feel the need to spend 24/7 by each other's side, I don't know they do it. Even in marriage I need my own, physical space, and right now I feel like there's no privacy.

There of course, is the guilt that I should be there at all times. I mean, if I'm not at work how selfish of me to not be by his side. What if he trips and falls down the stairs trying to hobble on down? What if his toes are in throbbing pain and the glass of water is just out of his reach?

Then, there's the barrage of visitors, phone calls, texts, emails, and messages. More invasion! And of course everyone is all, "Oh, I'm sure she's taking very good care of you!"/"I'M SURE YOU'RE TAKING VERY GOOD CARE OF HIM THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!! :) !!!!" Um, well, no. No, I'm not really. I am definitely not Florence Nightingale and he may be propped up on the bed but I'm not at his beck and call because...

IT'S JUST TWO BROKEN TOES!!!

Geez, the boy is not in a full body cast and he is not dying of cancer! Are people so starved for drama that two broken toes warrant this much outpouring of grief and worrying? Am I a cold, heartless bitch for saying, "It's just two broken toes!"? Was his world so wrapped in bubble wrap and foam peanuts that the slightest booboo is like near death? I know pain is relative and all but, I can tell you that if my dad broke his toes, he would be back at work and not on bed rest for a month. I swear guys are so fragile these days.

I know bed rest is hard on him too. He tries to keep up a positive attitude but he has a pretty bad case of cabin fever and he'll probably end up like that guy, in that movie, who spies on his neighbor and swears that one committed murder.

I'm just hoping that he will heal quickly so that he can be on a walking cast soon. Of course, he broke the toes on his right foot and you can't drive on a walking cast... Sigh...