The best description of me on Thursday? STIR CRAZY.
I'd convinced myself I no longer hurt (as long as there was 800mg of Ibuprophen at hand) by Wednesday night.
All day Thursday I was surly and depressed and just really pissed about the accident and the bruises and being 34 and healing so slowly and grrr, life in general.
So yeah, I defied all that was sacred (approved sick leave) and went in to work. I have a desk job! It's not like I have to carry 50 lb boxes around all day! I was slow but I got work done. I'd only planned on spending half a day there...but umm, yeah, what would have taken me a couple hours to do on say, BEFORE Monday night? Took me all day. A lot of my time was spent figuring out how to get out of my chair without hurting myself.
Yes, I know I am stubborn and hard-headed. I blame my father...and maybe my mom too.
I woke up kinda sore on Saturday morning but shook it off...then after coming back from lunch? Yeah, I WALKED to Fremont and back...I know, I should have "dumb ass" tattooed to my forehead...so right, after getting back to the apartment? I collapsed and slept for the rest of the day. I barely remember Sunday...there was a lot of sleeping and watching Season 1 of Buffy the Vampyre Slayer on Hulu.
And today? All I can say is thank the gods of Cobal today is a holiday.
I admit defeat. I am not invincible. If work has okay'd the time off, I am a fool not to take advantage of it--ALL of it. Sleep = healing, and if I notice that my body is craving more than the 6 hours I usually need? I should not ignore it.
Kick me if I do.