Round Up the Drill, I'll Get the Weasels

I saw my primary occupational medicine doctor today (read: the work comp doc) and she informed me that I'm months away from being ready for the work conditioning program. The final step before I return to duty.

I can't tell you just how reassuring this news was. Not.

I'm a little frustrated by the proclamation. Sure, I knew deep down that this was the case, but I wanted some hopeful, encouraging words. I wanted good news. I still have one more appointment at the end of the week with the surgeon. I'll have my xrays done at that time and find out what he thinks. I'm curious to know what the fusion looks like, especially since the last 10 days have been rife with sniffling, sneezing, and coughing up a lung. (I'm just glad I didn't have this crud right after the surgery!)

After I got done with my appointment, I came home to tend to a few emails and chores before heading out to a meeting. I was excited about the meeting. I was leaving my house early, I was going to get there before most of the others, giving me a chance to talk to a couple people about non-group stuff. If traffic cooperated, I could even stop and grab snacks for everyone.

Anyone familiar with Murphy's Law, or with me, knows that when I'm running ahead of schedule, something bad is looming just over the horizon.

Da Goddessmobile died in the middle of an intersection.

No one stopped to help me as I sat there, hazards flashing away, trying to convince the purple princess to start. Honking, fingers, blah blah blah. Finally, two very kind pedestrians came to ask if I needed assistance. With their help, the car was safely moved to the side of the road. A quick call to let the folks I was meeting know what was up yielded a ride far away from my traitorous auto. (Okay, it wasn't so much "far" as it was "away.")

While I was waiting for that ride, I called my dad. When something bad happens to my car I always call my dad. It's the law. It's in his Dad Contract. Since we both have appointments tomorrow (doc for him, PT for me), he said he'd take me down to pick the car up in the afternoon. Chances are, it will have to be towed. (Note: I just had my battery replaced not too long ago. I had to have my neighbor help me with the first jump - he supplied the cables as mine seem to have walked off with the former boyfriend when he moved. The second jump was from AAA and they did a read on my ULTRA LOW battery, hence the need for a new one. Needless to say, I am not pleased that I'm experiencing more car trouble.)

So, let's recap here.

1) Doc says I won't be returning to work for months.

2) My car dies.

This isn't the worst thing that could happen, but it's certainly not something I can afford. As I told my dad, I wasn't going to cry, though. Crying wouldn't help the situation.

The good news was that I got the ride to the meeting. And, a friend who lives relatively near me gave me one home. I did have her stop by my car so I could grab something I forgot, tried to start the car (it started!), only to have it die once again less than a block later. We (meaning, she and I) are fairly sure it's a problem with the computer chip that tells my car what to do. Yeah, yeah...we're chicks and we came up with that. Bite me. (Not the cute guy in the corner. You, cutie pie, you can nibble.)

The most pathetic part of the entire day? It's taken me almost two hours to write this poor excuse of a post.

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