Yesterday I took my broken foot to the doctor, and he gave me the following information:
1. It's a big chip but not a bad break. You really dodged a bullet.
2. Wear the surgical shoe for two more weeks, and then you can
wear your heels and start your walking program again.
3. No surgery is necessary.
4. The pain is due to severe soft tissue damage, but everything looks good.
Had dinner with friends, great conversation, and a lot of laughter that only happens with women of a certain age who have been through a LOT. I was happy as can be all day.
Until I got home that night. I found a very sick Ruggles (his annual cold) and Rotley was in a foul mood because Ruggles was sick. Last week Ruggles was at the vet with the Hairball from Hell, and the meds were a bit pricey, but if it's for my babies I don't care.
Phoned the vet first thing this morning, and Mary Ann, my dear friend who took us to the vet last week, picked up the medicine for Ruggie and brought it to my office (the vet closes before I get off work).
This evening, the furry little commando got his first dose of Clavamax, and he has finally settled down, sniffing and snorting loudly.
Rotley is still growling in a low and business-like tone to his baby brother because the medicine makes Ruggles smell "funny" to him.
And Ruggles just got up, stretched, and sneezed GUNK all over the wall behind my bed!
YEEEEEEEEEEEEEECCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!