Numb

Painkillers are the bomb. Stone cold sober following an icy skiing accident, my meds have made me numb and not just my ice packed knee. Other than the excruciating pain when my knee went crunch and pop while jumping the cross-country ski tracks to avoid a four-kid pileup ahead, my skis catawampus in a position that cracked my right knee like a wishbone, I've been numb. 

My numbness is almost robotic as I'm forced to sit on my ass all day, my leg elevated quivering and spasming when moved. Supermom is not an option and there's no arguing my catatonic state or immobilization brace.

I'm numb to pangs of hunger. By noon yesterday I hadn't even had a warm cup of joe. "Hello, it's your mother, I'm still here," I call in an echo chamber, my five family members deaf from headsets they wear working online. Perhaps I'll 'Postmates' my lunch, I thought to myself, seeing my incapacitation as liberating. 

For the first time in my life, I've become numb to arguing. My daughter, too busy to pick up my sandwich, yet with time to borrow our car to visit a friend later that afternoon before cross-country practice, was not worth my energy and my husband's relenting to be expected.

Numb, yet not surprised, when my son called me en route to the dentist yesterday to ask what was for dinner. Slightly irritated when he called right back to say, "Dad wants to know who's in charge of dinner". 

Numb when the dentist called at 3:10pm yesterday asking why my 13-year-old son had not arrived to his 3:00 appointment.

Numb when I received a text this morning that my 15-year-old was 30 minutes late to Drivers-Ed last night.

Numb my urgent medical requests are still tied to bureaucracy, after numerous calls. Sure I'll see my primary care physician to check the boxes!

Numb when I poured the MiraLAX into the cup of tap water for lunch, the powder coating my dresser. I swallowed my Hydrocodone like clockwork. I sure as shit don't have the energy to give birth! 

I was numb to my 10-year-old's yelling in my bed this morning. Apparently I suck at explaining decimals. "Where was my frickin' coffee dude?" I barked back in defense. After Napoleon stormed off, I emailed his teacher, as if I gave a frick, before my husband brought me coffee and a cold bagel.

Today I was numb when the MRI caused my leg to shake uncontrollably, four days post-accident, tears rolling down my cheeks, unable to meditate myself calm with the sound of gunfire 'rat-a-tat-a-tat' in the tube and my back arching in revolt. I'm blessed it's not worse, I reassured myself amidst the faint classical music in the headphones meant to distract me.

Numb when radicals attacked our nation's capital in a coup attempt yesterday stoked by the president, and numb to the piss-poor delayed response from leaders of our country. Glued to the 24-hour news cycle, I've released anger and rage, consumed by numbness. 

I suppose I'm also sad and numb because I expected more empathy from my family. It's been hours since they checked if I've fallen outta bed on my way to the bathroom. I imagine they'll learn on their own if they don't read my writing first. As for now, it's all out of my frickin' control and high time for my painkillers before I turn on the news!

The only family pic the teens allowed was post-accident.