I want my foot back.

I knew this surgery thing wouldn't be a cakewalk. (Yes, I'm still huffing and puffing about my recovery. I might be doing it for some time.) But it's affecting other parts of my body than the operated on part.

My ribs and inner biceps? Sore from the crutches. My right hip? Tired and achy from being angled while hobbling. My ass? Shrinking on the left side since the left leg is nothing but dead weight.

My foot? My foot has been replaced by a horror movie prop. It's fat and purple and completely unlike my other foot.

So I'm wondering, who stole my foot? While I was under, did some evil, crazy-eyed mad scientist lob off my left foot and replace it with this silicone imitation? Because I know what my left foot looks like. This ... thing isn't my left foot. It's something you'd see floating in a lake on a low-budget, Sci Fi Network flick. It's something you'd put in your little sister's backpack so she'd freak out when retrieving her math book. It's something you'd see in a Halloween store in September.

It's not MY foot. That's for damn sure.

I about passed out tonight in the bathtub. Because I reached over to wash my achy foot. And with all of the pure, white light in the bathroom, I saw it. I really saw it. I saw the deep purple splotches. And the green around that. And the yellow around that. My entire heel looks like a kindergartner's crayon-wax-paper-ironed nightmare. And the top of my foot? Let's just say I got stepped on by a horse once, and it was nothing compared to this. At least I still have my toes. I'm not keeping my hopes up, though. They're bound to fall off any day now.

At least my knee looks better. Hell, it'll be fantastic when it's working again. But then again, without a foot, what's a knee?