Walking….maybe not.

So this past Tuesday I went in to have my cast taken off and everything re-evaluated.  I got the okay to wear one more cast but allowed to put full body weight on it with a walking shoe attached to the bottom of the cast.  To be honest I was hardly putting 50% weight on it this past week because I was moving like I was 80 years old and I was in quite a bit of pain.  So I just started using my crutches to the full extent.  However.  I go back to the doctor next Monday to have the cast taken off and to start physical therapy.  I’m supposed to be walking by then.  And here’s where I vent my frustration….
I feel like I’m under a heck of a lot of stress this time.  My mother-in-law has been living with us since October 17th when I had the surgery.  My husband and her fight a lot and I’m usually put in the middle.  They tell me they aren’t yelling at each other, but I beg to differ as a raised voice in my house growing up meant you were yelling.  So my husband is voicing his frustrations on me to walk walk walk so that she can leave sooner.  This morning he went so far as to call me a baby and tell me to work on it (walking).  He called me a baby jokingly, but it really hurt.  He doesn’t understand at all.  The pressure is on from the doctor too, if I don’t put weight on it, I’ll hinder it further down the road.  It’s like I’m scared to DEATH to fall, the ankle feels SO VERY weak, even in a cast there’s a lot of pain there.  So a combo of me being a baby and fearing pain and falling has me in multiple panic attacks this morning.  I spent all morning from 7:45 am when everyone left for work, until noon, trying to take ONE stinking baby step, not big, just a small one…..and could I do it…no. Not at all.  I was beyond pissed, angry, sad, and scared.  I sat down on the couch and cried until about 1 pm.  Now as I even think about walking I start to panic.  I called my mother-in-law at her work and asked her to bring the walker from the storage shed…..if I walk like I’m 80, I might as well have a walker too.  Maybe the walker will help.  I can’t describe to you the feeling of ultimate dread of putting any weight on this damn foot.  It’s like I’m at the top of a mountain looking down and I get that queasy feeling and it just literally paralyzes me.  And to have my husband mock me adds to my frustration.  He doesn’t understand why I can’t just walk.  If only it was that simple.  His Mom is a bit more understanding, however, and I’ll probably work with her while the hubby watches and micro-manages from a afar.
In other news, I managed to lose 6 pounds, 1/2 to 1 pound of that is the cast.  It’s a start.