Those of you wondering where your daily how-has-Arley-screwed-up-her-life-today fix has been for the past couple of days might be forgiven for thinking that I had been off kicking ass and taking names (if you could overlook the fact that the only way I could kick someone in the ass would be if that person laid down on the floor, picked up my leg, put it directly on their ass and moved it back and forth). No, the only reason why the blogosphere has been sadly bereft of polio jokes is that the only thing I had to say was "damn."
After the whole "missing the Neko Case concert" thing and the whole "my hip replacement might be loose and I'll need a new one and someone is going to have to reattach my torn tendon but Lord knows when that will be" thing, there was not a hell of a lot else to say. (I figured no one wanted another 'monkey slippers' update). Before, I had been thinking "only 4 more days until I meet Dr. SecondOpinion and maybe get an answer" or "only 8 more days until Neko Case blows my mind," but once those things passed and there was no timeline for any other appointments, it became too easy to look at the big picture and that big picture, yeah, not so rosy. I momentarily got sick of being unable to put on my socks or get out of bed without kicking one of my legs with my other leg or nearly falling over every time I try to put a pair of pants on without a grabber. Plus, I feel like my pain is increasing, though this could be because I'm now aware of the fact that there's a tendon flapping free in my body and waving in the breeze like some sort of sea anenome.
Eventually, however, someone had to give a "last call" to the pity party. I knew I needed to get out of dodge when A. called and the only remotely interesting thing I had to tell him was that when I went to the library, Borges' "Book of Imaginary Beings" was filed in the reference department between the "Oxford Book of Quotations" and "Make Your Wedding Great!" (Like, oh my god!). I found this fascinating because on one hand, the book draws from nonfiction sources, but on the other hand, is not exactly what you'd consider a "reference book" since it's a blend of fiction and nonfiction. A.'s opinion was that these issues of genre had stopped being interesting in the '80s and I conceded that, yeah, probably I need to get one of those things called a life I had been hearing so much about. (Is it ironic that I equate "going to a small college town in Illinois" with "getting a life?")
Plus, today was my last day of physio, so there was no longer a practical reason to stick around Vancouver, which is firmly entrenched in 5 months of soul-crushing grayness. It was sad to say goodbye to all these people who have helped me for four of the past five months. My mom made everyone handmade blankets and I bought cards to say, basically, "thanks for being the only people who gave a shit that I cannot move my leg in most directions." Even though I failed my physio exam (in my defense, the questions were hard: can you put on your socks? Can you go up and down the stairs unassisted? Do you have trouble getting dressed?) I proudly "graduated" and celebrated with a caramel brulee latte.
So now, it's time to fold up the recovery sweatpants, return the library books and all 5 House Season 5 DVDs (which took me a grand total of 2 days to burn through) and pack up a backpack because it's time to get on a plane. My parents can breathe a sigh of relief because I'm taking off for Champaign. Main goal: celebrate International Arley Appreciation Day without eating my weight in pork products. (Okay, maybe a few pork products). If you live in Champaign, you should call me.