Bag O' Bones

It's many moons from Talk Like a Pirate Day, and "bucket o' blood" is inappropriate for me anyway. Try "bag o' bones" instead. My right fifth metatarsal is exactly that: a bag o' bones, shattered in a lot of pieces. That's the same foot that contains the diabetic wound. Until today, neither my doc nor I thought of looking for a significant fracture, but hey, there it is, and it has been since probably December. It took this long for the fracture to cause enough problems to render me almost unable to walk, even indoors from room to room. That's great fun, I can assure you. My doc is consulting with a specialist about details and possible treatments. Meanwhile... ouch!

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UPDATE Friday afternoon: still no word from the docs, but Stella suggested (she's bright, that one!) that I use her desk chair to wheel myself from room to room. It works, fitting through narrow passages where a wheelchair wouldn't go. It's about 5-10 minutes from, say, the bedroom to the other end of the den where I'm tapping this, but there's relatively little pain... a very important consideration! The kitchen, with its flooring and borders, is a bit more of a problem. Still, this is much better than nothing! Unless Samantha comes right here and poses for me, utterly stationary, for about five minutes, there will not be a cat pic today... and well, you know, she's a cat, and not much inclined to co-operation...