Damn it

I have settled into near homicidal tempered acceptance that I am similar to a beached whale for the next 6 weeks.  42 frigging days on crutches. Minimal walking as I can’t keep my hair line fractured ankle completely off the ground as required ( I am just too sore from the fall and I have fibromyalgia).  
There is a difference between having crutches in case they are needed, to them being mandatory requirement for walking.
 
Today we had to get a shower chair so I could at least shower with minimal assistance.  A shower chair – so glamorous a purchase (yep sarcasm). We are looking at wheel chairs … yes, wheel chairs so I can actually do something out of the house and not be in screaming agony or shaky on my feet.
I could not feel more despondent than I do atm.
 
A year ago I started my recovery journey.  But here I am, basically incapacitated, even more than back then, at my worst.  I am so mad.  I wrote 5 poems last night trying to burn out my frustration (it didn’t work).
How I got injured is in my post: 
And will no doubt be scattered through my poetry for the foreseeable future.
Feel free (please) to give me some topics or words to write around, it might save us both from more anger expression writing.
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