Now I am not a superstitious girl. So when I read in the stories about, especially the high fantasy novels where someone always ominously fore-tends that 'bad luck comes in threes', I always saw it as a convenient albeit a cliched plot device.
And yet here I am! Triple whammied!
First it was the back. Then it was the burn on the leg that got terribly infected. Now I slipped and landed awkwardly on the sole on of my right foot and I can't put any weight on it. Now even to walk to the bathroom I need a walking stick! This sucks to hell and highwater! I am supposed to be getting better not worse!
On top of that Mom, finds it funny to complain to everyone about doing "seva" to me. So I got into a big fight with her. I just couldn't stand her dismissing my struggle and her sarcasm. If she found it so hard, I didn't want her putting herself through the grind. I didn't ask her to wear herself out cleaning on top of every AC and under every cabinet for Liz aunty's visit exhausting herself. I didn't even ask her to help me. To the maximum extent possible I was trying to do everything myself. Dad of course doesn't give a damn.
I gave up, I bought myself a walking stick online today to get around and I'll find a physio who can come home and give me some ultrawave or some pain relief. I'm tired of not being taken seriously and when I take things into my own hands, accused of making them feel like they are neglecting me. Why is everything my fault.
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