Well, I swam this morning, as I had hoped.

I started off in the cooler "big" pool. But I couldn't move enough to get warm in the water without thrashing my knee. I started doing my usual laps -- alternating strokes, etc. After feeling a few loud pops, I realized that I can't do that in my current state. I carefully limped out of the pool and went to the nice warm therapy pool, where I did a lot of arm stuff, swung my bum leg from the hip a lot and bounced around on my good leg.

It was somewhat aerobic, but mostly, it felt like a breakthrough to actually get my big fat butt in the pool. Mostly, I was surrounded with old people, but they were all very nice and someone told me that most of the people there had all had knee replacements. *sigh*

I was embarrased to bring my crutches to the pool, so I left them in the car. I didn't do lots of walking today, but I think I did enough that my knee is absolutely excrutiatingly painful at the moment. I took a vicodan at about 430 and I could literally feel it kick in -- almost to the second because the difference of pain versus no pain was that enormous. I have let it slide until bedtime because I figure I'm in for a bad night and I'm trying to be judicious in my use of the narcotic stuff, per my doctor's instructions. It's been two very sore hours.

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When I went to pick up Genny at LaDawn's, she had a fat lip. Apparently, she'd done a face plant off the swing and LaDawn and I talked a bit and agreed that she's falling a lot and isn't her usual sunshine self. I tried to get her into the pediatrician, but he's out of town and the bitch on call is the pediatrician we dumped to get the one we have. She's someone I truly can't stand and has the bedside manner of overflowing toilet of diarrhea. I kid you not. She's that bad.

One time, she made me come in three times in a week and a half ($45 in copays, not to mention the 50 minutes round trip of driving each fucking time), while Genny suffered with ear infections because she didn't think she was "that" bad and wouldn't give her the needed antibiotics. That bitch made my kid suffer, for which I still harbor a desire to decorate the waiting room with her innards.

When she was listed in the paper as one of the 17 families whose house burned in the big forest fire, I found myself thinking, "I can't think of anyone who deserves it more, Bitch." What was worse was when I told myself I should feel guilty, I couldn't summon sympathy for her, no matter how I tried. I have never truly loathed someone, but I loathe her. It's not very Christian, I realize, and not even nice, so all I can do is ask God to forgive me for being so angry.

After the ear infection incident -- the next time Genny needed to get seen, I asked for Dr. Hall, who initially hadn't been taking new patients, and explained that my son really wanted a male doctor and I was not comfortable with Dr. Bitch's approach. When I talked to Dr. Hall's nurse, she said,"We get that a lot about her." Whenever I see her at Dr. Hall's office, I have to seriously stifle the desire to run over to her and beat her fucking ass. I give her one of those fake smiles, one of the ones that hides the "Eat shit and DIE" feelings marginally and I turn away carefully.

When they told me today that's all they had available, I took Genny to urgent care this evening because I wouldn't trust that doctor to care for my plastic goldfish, nevermind my child.

(Should I tell you how I really feel? Should I?)

Genny's got a pretty bad sinus infection that is also in her left ear. That's why her knees are so skinned up and why she's been taking so many diggers lately. Poor baby! She started the 'cillin and she should be feeling better by the end of the weekend, thank God!

Sometimes, she's such a pain, but my gosh, when she's sweet, she's adorable. Even while she's been feeling lousy, she's been sweet. She wants to "help" me a lot, now that I'm on crutches and stuff. On the one hand, you want to say,"Oh, Good God, don't help!," but she's so earnest about it, that I've been finding ways to channel that and work with her. When we shop, I ask her to get stuff off the shelves and help unload the basket. She takes it very seriously -- she'll even fight with Bear about getting to help.

I am looking forward to the weekend. It's supposed to rain on Sunday, which means lots of reading on the couch together.