I am very fortunate in my situation. I live in a state that has a lot of transgender protections, including requiring insurance companies to pay for transgender care. The only negative right now is I work for the Department of Defense which as we can all see is rolling back things due to Trump, and they are the only employer that can supersede the state law for medical care.
That being said, I am leaving the DoD at the end of June. My hubby is starting a new job with good medical (actually same medical we currently have, so we will just be transferring our insurance plan). So I don’t have to worry about any transgender “riders” on the insurance.
Our current and soon to be current insurance does assign people a transgender case manager to help with all the hoops you have to jump through. We have been assigned a very wonderful lady named Rae. The incredibly great part about this is she is the same one that helped my husband through his FtM process, she is the sweetest person and will fight to get you what you need.
She has already set me up in the system, and gave me a referral to a mental health specialist. This one disadvantage is the insurance company requires me to get a sign off before they will pay for HRT, voice training and implants. The implant possibility will happen two years after I am on HRT. This is to see if enough growth has happened, and if it hasn’t they will approve it.
The insurance may start covering other things like facial feminization, and laser hair removal in the future and while I will probably have my beard lasered off before then, I want everything else. I am still debating SRS at the moment (bottom surgery) but I want to see how things progress before making that choice.
Rae has just been on it for me. She is so great she even gave me a list of specialists that are in favor of informed consent. Not all are like the advertise and I will complain about that in a future post.
Informed consent means you are given HRT once you have shown you understand the possible consequences of receiving it. You are basically just acknowledging you understand what its effect on you may be and you give permission to proceed.
A lot of specialists still require you to have endless sessions and they still may decide not to approve you for a variety of reasons. This is a form of gatekeeping to determine if people are “trans enough” and unfortunately a lot of times their decision isn’t based on the person they are caring for, but their own outlook. I don’t want to waste my time doing this because someone needs to get inside me and know me deeply. I only allow my husband inside me… or maybe someone really cute.
Dear god, I am 46 years old. I have been like this my whole life.
So I have gotten an appointment with the same specialist that worked with my hubby and who believes in informed consent. The specialist was awesome to hubby, and the specialists is already being awesome with me. If things work well, I will go a week from Tuesday (the 27th) and an hour after that I will have the sign off so I can make an appointment with a doctor to get HRT.
Oh, another cool thing that Rae has done is set me up for voice training lessons, even before I saw the counselor. This caught me off guard as the speech office called me up and asked when I wanted the appointment. At first I had no idea what they were talking about until they explained what was going on. That made my day right there.
I am pretty excited (and anxious) so much is happening so soon, the insurance process has started!
I have a ton of things I want to talk about. My feelings, my situation, just about everything you can imaging. I also want to research a bunch of things as well, specific things about the process, support groups etc. However, you know what has been the first actual thing I focused on.
The hubby picked me up some clothing. Nothing big or in depth. I am not currently out about being trans and I couldn’t go with him because I am housebound due to an injury. He brought me back a few things and they fit pretty well.
I found that at 6’2″+ and 295-300lbs I fit a 3XL from Target. Honestly better then I expected. The leggings fit is a little off though. I haven’t started hormones yet so my fat deposits are still in a fairly masculine arrangement and the clothing definitely does not fit around my hips, they just slide off.
That being said, my husband is my hero. With is transition from FtM he can give me insights into the feminine world that I haven’t access to. The other great thing is that he sews costumes so he can accommodate my current figure.
I would post more, but it is dangerously close to my feelings and I think that will wait until later. I just wanted to say my husband is awesome.
It happened, on Tuesday, March 13th 2018 my journey has officially begun and I am nervous as hell. I officially told my husband I wanted to transition to a woman and it was the most nerve wracking thing I have ever done.
Not that I logically needed to worry. After all, my husband is transgender himself. He was my wife for over twenty years and has been my husband for more than four and I walked every step I could with him on that journey.
What I found though, was that my emotional brain still didn’t care about logic and was freaking out. I was so terrified he would laugh, or even worse just leave. Of course, he didn’t do any of that, he just hugged me and said he would help me through with it.
It isn’t like it is a surprise at all. I have always thought I should be a girl. In fact, growing up I got a lot of shit for liking more girly things and disliking more typically masculine. Don’t get me wrong, I had my own set of toxic masculinity (and I still do, though I am trying to stop it). However, I have always loved frilly things, pink, baking, and don’t get me started on the whole shipping of characters or focusing on relationships in games. I have always preferred all of this over working on cars, liking football or doing anything super macho. I can’t really post right here all the details, but I am sure I will unpack myself in a lot of future posts.
As a 46 year old person I didn’t think I could ever get myself to do it. I always joked “maybe next life”. I am seen as a big guy (6’2”+ and about 300lbs) and I just didn’t think it would ever work for me to transition. Even now I am fully aware I may not ever reach the ideal “passing”, but that is ok. I am fortunate, I have seen my husband’s transition and while FtM is different in a lot of ways, it still prepares me and lets me know some of what to expect. I have a loving husband who wants to support me in whatever I need.
In fact, he is so supportive that within the hour he was looking for where to get me clothing, and especially shoes that fit my size 14w feet. He is excited because he stopped sewing women’s clothing when he transitioned, but he loved the sewing itself and now he has an excuse to do it.
I am still freaking out in my head, hamsters are running wild inside me and this post probably won’t get any clearer so I will wrap up here. I am just letting the world know I finally made it official with my husband, so now I get to start planning on how to do this.
…more to come.
It’s funny, I posted about how I woke up anxious last year on January 1st because I hadn’t heard from my parents as they had passed that year. It was the first time in 45 years that they hadn’t said Happy New Year to me, 25 of which was phone calls right around midnight.
I didn’t think it would happen again, but it did. This morning I woke up, the second New Years since they were gone, and worried for a few moments that they weren’t ok since I hadn’t heard from them. Even stone cold drunk they would call me.
Then I laid in bed for about an hour thinking about them. I know they would be proud of the hubby and I, especially all the surgeries he went through. I don’t think I have even really tried dealing with them being gone. I don’t know how to start it. I do know it bothered me laying in the dark, listening to my husband snore and wishing desperately like a ten year old again that they would call me one more time.
Maybe this year I need to actually work on that. Although I do want to say that this year is looking far better than last year. W’s surgeries are all done, all requirement to stay at this job are satisfied. By the end of this year we will have left this soul crushing job and moved out of this people crushing place and maybe actually get back to being us.
I do war about the job thing. This is probably the most money I will make in my life. The job is super easy to do skill wise. It would pay W’s and myself’s 125k in student loans within four years (not counting the 25k in short term debt this year). The problem being is this job is a complete scam and the people in it are incredibly toxic. I don’t feel any pride in going to work, and over the months I just watch more and more bullshit and it makes me angrier every time. This doesn’t even count that I dislike working for Trump’s administration and the rights they are rolling back on anyone who isn’t a cisgender, heterosexual white male.
I have a lot to talk about with work, and I think I am going to start doing it this year (probably later this month). So for now I am going to look forward to the fact that things are moving forward. My husband is healthy. I am fairly healthy and will be taking steps to address other factors. Most importantly I am going to celebrate the fact that we never have to worry about food being in our fridge or the ability to buy what we need, when we need right now in our lives. This is a first in our lives together (and a first in my 46 year long life ever).
Happy New Year to everyone, may 2018 surpass anything else you have in joy and happiness!
The last three days were a little stressful, but mostly unassuming. First let’s cover our Ghost cat status. Torie was kind enough to feed him.
The hubby and I went to his final pre-op appointment on Tuesday, where we waited for the doc to get caught up. Finally we met, talked and things looked good for the surgery.
We then went to the surgical center, where he would stay a day before being released. Once again we waited, and about an hour after surgery was supposed to start our doc arrived for that (are you seeing a pattern yet). Hubby was incredibly happy to get it started.
The day ended with the hubby getting out of surgery, being rolled back to his room and resulted in me visiting with him for a few hours before going back to the hotel room.
I arrived early (after having a great waffle breakfast at my La Quinta hotel) and prepared for the hubby to be released. His initial schedule was somewhere between 10-11am. We eventually checked him out at 5:30pm (see that pattern) and this was without even seeing the doc. We were told to check with the office on Friday for when they will want to see hubby to pull his drain out.
We went to bed and finally woke up today (Friday). We went and had a great waffle breakfast which made him very happy. We then moved on to more laying in bed while he heals. We tried getting a hold of the office but found not only were they closed, but their phones were disconnected…
We left a message on the nurse’s separate line and she called back eventually, arranging us an 8:30 am appt on Monday that is right before our flight. Unsatisifying to me, but I will take what we can get.
Finally I had realized I had forgotten my battery I use to charge my iPad/iPhone at the hospital so I picked it up, picked up some Red Robin burgers for the hubby and now here I am sitting in the room letting him heal. So that is it for this report. Stay tuned there will be more updates and I will eventually write a full review of this experience 🙂
Our first day of travel went really well. Our flight was slightly later then normal which means we didn’t leave house until 5:30am, our normal time we go to work. That meant we were doing a bit better on sleep then expected.
We arrived at the airport and went through a busy security checkpoint quickly because the DoD has given us the “pre-check” status so we avoid most of it. I will probably miss that when we eventually leave.
Oh, surprise note, the Lyft driver dropped us off at arrivals instead of departures. The departures area had a half of mile of cars waiting to drop off, the arrivals was empty and we went up two escalators and ended up at security ahead of a huge wait. Thank you for that pro-tip Lyft guy.
The flight itself was pretty straightforward. We were surprised at how cheap first class was (we bought tickets six months ahead) and so my legs actually fit and I didn’t feel clausterphobic. We landed in Phoenix and found the temperature was only about 70 degrees and everyone was wearing pants, well of course except for hubby and I. This is summer weather for Seattle so we had shorts and sandals. Some photos from the flight below:
We had some lunch, checked in to our hotel and then went and saw Justice League (spoiler alert, wasn’t as bad as I had worried, there is a review coming). Finally we got home, laid in bed watching Shark Tank (yes, I do that sometimes) and then fell asleep.
In reality a pretty low key day, even with travel.
Well today we went up to Bellingham to do a few things.
- Drop off some tupperware with my brother’s family.
- We went up to get pictures of all of Wolsey’s old places he lived at.
- Went up to place a wreath on my parents grave for the holidays, along with stringing some lights.
I do have to say though, the travel up to Bellingham and back was unprecedentedly smooth. It is a 112+ mile trip each way and we were up within 2.5 hours after stopping three times for bathroom attempts… Hubby couldn’t find a stall to use… and only 2 hours coming home with us doing shopping at Target for the cat. There are a lot of pictures of places the hubby has lived, and like the photos I took of where I lived I will have in depth postings about those places and why they are important.
First we stopped by my brother’s place, we saw his kids and their mother and hung out for a little while. Wolsey dropped off some of his jewelry from pre-transition to Kristen our niece while I gave Tupperware to Monica. Hopefully they will find uses for all of those. Fortunately the family seems to be doing pretty well. We got some ideas for the kids for Christmas and it was nice to just see my brother sober.
Then we were off to see Wolsey’s childhood places he had lived at. We went over through the Alderwood/Birchwood area and hit up a few places. Things went well on this leg of the journey except for an old man coming out of one of the houses we went by and we had to take stealth pictures of it, so as not to alarm him.
We then went up to Toad Lake area and saw the first home his parents built. It is also near where his grandparents lived, so we swung by there. The house is obviously still owned by his sister, and we saw a white SUV in the driveway which means his mother was probably there as well, so we were in ultra-stealth mode to avoid contact.
Although I really wanted to take him up to the door, and when Debbie and Toni answered (Debbie is mom, Toni sister) I would be excited, give Debbie a hug saying I found Clark’s long lost son (Clark is Wolsey’s dad) and pull Wolsey in front of me. I can only imagine the reaction, and yes it isn’t a fully positive thing that I would love to see the confusion and then the apoplectic shock.
After we snuck away, we then went down to the Gladstone/James street homes. These are some of the places where he lived as a gutter punk and where I watched him do a photo shoot with a flower and nothing else. I thought he was so beautiful (and he was still my best friend then, although this was pre-transition for him). I do find it a bit humorous though, the whole time I had a crush on him, he wanted to be with me and would have dropped anyone he was with to see if it would work between us.
Then we went to the Blue Dolphin and had a very nice lunch, however we forgot to hit his parents home (last place in Bellingham he lived at that I didn’t) because of the food induced dementia. It is ok though, it was already stressful enough at his sister’s/grandparent’s house so it was a good idea for a break.
We also had swung by my parents’ grave. We noted that the wind chimes were gone. It has been super stormy lately so it could very well have been blown off. Also, the cemetery often has teenagers that prowl it, they might have grabbed it. Either way it doesn’t bother me at all. If it was the wind, it was totally expected and it probably made some cool sounds as it blew away, and if it was teenagers/college kids I hope they are enjoying the tinkling sound it makes.
Either way we will replace it next time we go up. We knew the stuff we place on the grave isn’t permanent.We also noticed no one had been to their grave since we went last time. The remains of decayed flowers we had planted were still there. We cleaned it up, and the ever inventive Wolsey found some stuff to wipe it down with. I figure next time I will bring a small cleaning kit just in case.
Even with all this, Wolsey was kind enough to set up the new solar powered christmas lights along the shepherds crook and we set up a wreath. My parents always loved Xmas (well at least my mom, and my dad did anything my mom asked of him).
I noticed “Angel Eyes” a statue of an angel as part of a family grave about 50 feet down from where they are was there and a bit worn looking. Angel Eyes is sort of a cemetery icon, and as teenagers we would run up to her at night and dear each other to sleep on the “death bed” beside her. I had remembered earlier this week I had scanned a photo of Angel Eyes from 1994 so I present to you the passing of 23 years (1994 to 2017). It is amazing how time slips by. I think I might have to do a photo session with the graveyard itself, it is still the most beautiful one I have seen ever.
The only thing that really bothered me and still bothers me is that it was obvious no one had visited their grave. I suspect I am the only one that visits, which is ok in the end. Wolsey pointed out we were the only ones that tried to take care of them when they were alive, somehow it seems fitting it is only us now. Even though I understand that, it still makes me angry, especially with my sister who has done nothing, not offered to help with anything and was the source of a lot of real grief when both parents passed (that is part of the upcoming continuing posts of my parents passing, still so angry I can’t write it).
So there it was, a fairly easy going trip up to Bellingham and then back home.
MY FATHER’S PASSING, PART 1 – THE BEGINNING
I have been circling this writing for more than a year. It was by far the most horrendous event I have been witness to in my personal life. More so then when strange men came into our home when I was a teen with guns, threatened us and caused us to have to live in a car for over a year with an actual contract out on our family. Worse then being evicted from multiple places to live. Worse then not having enough food so that I would get stretch marks that didn’t go away until I was in my 20s from losing weight by the end of of the month. Even worse then horrible nights when there is an alcoholic rampage in the house.
It bothers me enough I still haven’t sat down and cried, instead I am so very angry at so many other people that I haven’t really talked to anyone about this but my husband Wolsey. I have found that trying to unpack it is a large undertaking and to be honest I don’t know if this even covers everything. This is about the circumstances before, during and shortly after my father passed away. I know I will miss details as I go. Hopefully Wolsey will point them out and I can update this post over time.
My father was a very complicated man. He loved his children very much, he had been in trouble with the system for most of his life, and he ended his life in poverty. He had an endless supply of love and acceptance for me and Wolsey. He would support us no matter what. However, his decision making had been damaged due to PTSD, mental health and most impactful was alcoholism.
We tried to help as much as we could, but he was proud, and he also knew we had our own bills so the best we could do was help out with some bills, some food and some extra stuff I knew they would like (below is a video of 60th birthday from March 24th, 2008, he always liked carrot cake).
That video is four years after he was diagnosed as terminal. He had been terminal for close to a decade. The spots on his lungs kept growing, but he kept trudging on. We didn’t realize how bad his health was, he kept it to himself, but even with as bad as it was, he still might have made it a couple more years.
I think about it now though; I think I knew he was closer subconsciously. One day in March the year before he passed I had traveled up to Bellingham by myself, in a rare non-Wolsey trip. For some reason a song came on my iPhone on the way home and I had to pull over and cry, I was worried about my dad and mom’s health out of the blue and I realize now I was already grieving.
He survived much longer than anyone had expected. He had gone back into the pulmonologist that had originally diagnosed him six years before and they all came out to visit. None of the staff thought he would have made it a year, let alone six. My dad just smiled and told them he was immortal, no one could kill him.
There was a saying all my friends and family joked about since I was 18. No mere mortal could kill John Bradley. He was tough, resourceful, and just enough luck that everyone believed he would survive just about any situation. In the past he had taken on multiple cops, Vietcong, members of other outlaw clubs and abusive family members when he was a child. This saying changed as he got sick though. Our saying didn’t change much, but it went to “He has one more good fight in him”, even his last year where he couldn’t walk very far from his chair we said he still had a good thirty seconds in him, and to be honest thirty seconds would still be enough for most circumstances.
I tell you all of this to give you some background on him. In the future, I will probably have a lot of amazing (and some terrible) stories about him.
It started in January of 2016. His health was fairly poor, and like usual he went in and out of the hospital as his lungs were getting worse. He had gotten out and was recovering. We had been up there a lot to look over him and my mom. Things seemed to be getting out of the weeds and back to normal.
It was then that we started preparing for the hubby’s top surgery. He was ready to go, and the night before my dad received news that an old friend of his Joe had passed away and this was a huge blow to my dad.
Most of my dad’s friends were gone. They were hard living outlaw motorcycle club members and he was on the other side of sixty. This meant those that didn’t go to prison and die there already were all in bad shape. Joe was the third to last friend my dad had (Jimbo and Dennis were his last friends). This is out of literally dozens of hardened men I grew up with and called family. It set my dad into a tailspin of depression.
I should have picked it up earlier. He had mentioned to me once in passing that lately he was missing my grandmother. She had passed away 30 years ago and I now realize he was probably feeling depression, lost and just not in a good headspace. It didn’t help that he was bipolar, and had severe depression/mania episodes.
He called me one night, and I could hear the exhaustion and depression in his voice that night. I talked with him, reassured him and reminded him that the hubby and I would be up the next weekend. He perked up a bit and was excited about the surgery and the results. I hung up thinking everything would be fine. Things weren’t fine, and wouldn’t be fine for the next year.
The next day Wolsey went into surgery and while it was a successful surgery it was inundated with a lot of complications. No one had told us how bad he would leak from liposuction portion of the surgery would suck. The actual mastectomy went well, healed quickly, etc. The doctor’s office messed up though, they sent him home long before they should have and it left me by myself to take care of him. He couldn’t move well; he couldn’t clean up after his wounds and he was just hurting too much.
At no point in time did I begrudge that. I am here for him, just like he was here for me for everything. It didn’t bother me to have to put in that effort of getting up every 20 minutes, help him to the bathroom, while he was in there clean up the bed, change bedding and then put him back to bed and give him more pain pills. He is my life, and it was the least I could give to him.
It was also at this time I got a call from my mom. My dad had gone back to the ER and his O2 wouldn’t stop falling. They had him on positive air and he could talk. They were discussing options about how to handle it.
Something snapped in him, or maybe it’s better to say a decision was made by him. He took the positive air off his face, got up and while the doctors were talking he went downstairs and had a cigarette. When he came back up, they told him he couldn’t do that anymore and that he would have to use the positive air for a large part of his life, or at least until they could get the O2 under control. I was told he just shrugged and told them to fuck off. He was done.
He checked himself out of the hospital, meanwhile they were telling him he would die. He wasn’t going to let himself loose anymore of his freedom. I also think he had hit a depressive point again, his closest friends had passed, they weren’t ever going to make it back down to Lake Tahoe, or pretty much anywhere out of their apartment except for when I could take them places.
He decided to do this on his terms and he took their info for hospice and went home and determined that is where he would pass. My mom told me this over the phone and in my head, I was freaking out. My dad was dying, probably wouldn’t be longer than a week or so and I couldn’t leave that night at all since Wolsey couldn’t take care of himself.
The worst part is Wolsey couldn’t take care of himself at all for the next few days. It was unlikely he could get up to Bellingham before my father passed. Meanwhile I knew I would have to drive up there daily (a 250+ mile roundtrip) that I would have to fit around being home to take care of Wolsey. I couldn’t imagine it ever being worse.
I was wrong, a thousand times wrong once the hospice situation happened. However, that part of the story is still coming up and I think I have mulled about it enough for today.
Yesterday the husband and I went up to Bellingham early. The purpose was to visit my mom’s grave, as it was her birthday a short time ago, we had just gotten the solar Christmas lights they would want, and then to continue my photography project where I photograph all of the old places I lived.
The first place in Bellingham we stopped at was Fred Meyer’s for flowers and a super rich, chocolate frosted, chocolate cupcake with a chocolate straw and sprinkles on it. My mom loved chocolate cake with chocolate icing and would always sneak it in even with her diabetes.
We visited their grave and noted that our solar candle and wind chimes are still there. That was a surprise to both of us as we figured when we put them up in May, we would have to replace them every few months either due to teenagers, or just the weather.
We pulled out the solar Christmas lights and realized we didn’t have any ties to run it up the shepherds crook. We will be going up the weekend after Thanksgiving to put a Christmas wreath on it so we will just put the lights up then. We would wait closer to Christmas to spread out the going up now and then, but with the hubby’s surgery the following Tuesday Nov. 28th, we won’t be able to come up until after Christmas.
I felt a bit guilty since I hadn’t been up there in almost five months and due to work/injuries and stress I put off doing it. My goal is to come up four times a year to visit, both of their birthdays, wedding anniversary and Christmas. I realize over time this will probably lessen, but I guess there hasn’t been enough time yet.
While we were up there, we went to visit my brother who had just gotten out of rehab and is temporarily staying at his ex’s place with his kids. We dropped off a HD video camera we bought about five years ago since our phones and my camera match it to them. The kids evidently have youtube channels and wanted a better camera to film. I am glad to see my brother, sister (in-law unofficially) and younger grouping of nephew and niece.
We then went around to the remaining places I lived in Bellingham and photographed them as they look now. All I have left after this is the Everett, Lake Stevens, and Seattle areas, but the Whatcom County areas for living are done. I was incredibly pleased when they hubby said I could photograph his old places he lived in before being with me. We will do that the weekend we come up to put the wreath and lights up. I also told him I considered doing the same of a project of all the places I worked (dozens and dozens of places, literally), because it is a larger scale then the living, we will see if that goes that way.
We then left town and on our way back stopped by Flyer’s Restaurant and Brewery (their Burlington location). I will probably do a full Yelp review, but suffice to say the burger was really good, the staff was nice, but it was not quite the atmosphere we were looking for.
We were wanting to check it out as a possible entry in our 2019 book we are trying to get started that is a guide to greasy spoons and American diners in Western Washington. Way to upscale a place. Its on the Skagit Regional Airport and people literally can fly their small planes in and park next to the restaurant. Not what we were looking for, but still pretty good meals.
We then got home and before I could pull of my walking cast and rest, the drain pipe of our garbage disposal cracked and spilled everywhere. Hubby was great, he jumped in, cleaned up the water as I watched helplessly unable to help with my cast. We then called maintenance and they put a plug on the drain and supposedly this week they will repair it (replace is probably more likely).
Well that was my day today, went pretty well overall. All that matters is I got to spend it with my best friend and husband (yes they are the same person).
Today was a bit rough. I got to work, getting ready to work through a sample plan for an audit I was on. I walked over to my cubicle, turned and pivoted on my left ankle, and the next thing I knew I was smashing off my desk as I fell, barely stopping my head being smacked by holding out my left hand.
I laid there for a few moments, stunned, picked myself up and planted myself in my chair. I sat there for a few moments with a burning foot. One of my coworkers named Bill came over to check on me. He joked around, ribbing me for the fall. I pulled my shoe and sock off and noticed a huge lump on my foot.
Within 15 minutes I was surrounded by two supervisors, our Resident Auditor (think a full manager of the office) and four or five auditors (a revolving mix) all checking on me. During this time it got even more swollen. Eventually it was decided one of my supervisors would drive me to the ER. The problem is, the defense contractor we work at is a huge city size campus. The building we are in is larger than a football field and there was no way I could walk anywhere.
One of the supervisors called the paramedics (the contractor has their own in house fire department and paramedics) and the paramedics were there within a few minutes. They were nice guys, supplied with top of the line equipment and began the process of taking my vitals. They were prepping me to put my ankle in a fancy new air splint design I hadn’t seen before.
As they were taking my numbers, they asked which hospital I wanted to go to. Evidently the Contractor provides free transport to medical facilities for their employees. This is when we point out that I am not a defense contractor employee, rather I am a federal employee who audits them. They immediately put away the splint and wrapped my foot in a older pillow with some ice… I am not joking when I said that, the hubby got to see the pillow when I was at the ER.
In addition they couldn’t take me to the hospital, but they didn’t want to release me to my supervisor so she could take me. Because we weren’t “employees” they couldn’t drive, but they had some BS excuse that they couldn’t release me to someone with less medical experience. This means they called a second ambulance company (a third party) to come get me and take me to the ER.
Fast forward an hour, I had been transferred between two ambulances and arrived at a local hospital. There they x-rayed my ankle and foot and it came back with a break. They are a little worried about the placement of the break (a Jones Break I believe) so had me set up an appointment with an orthopedic specialist on Friday. Meanwhile I am not allowed to do any weight bearing at all on my foot as they put in a temporary fiberglass cast.
So here I am back home, a little drugged up, with an ankle sprained and swollen and a broken foot, out of work at least for the rest of the week, blowing my saved up leave. Hopefully I won’t need surgery, I need this healed before the hubby’s surgery in November. Oh, and please excuse any meanderings on this post, I am under those pesky pain meds… because this does hurt a lot.