The Tangled Web I DIDN'T Weave

This whole situation has become a stupid, confusing mess.
You know that moment when you realize that a small decision could have made things SO much easier, but you made the decision you made, and you can't go back?
Well, this morning I was given the opportunity to go back. I couldn't take it, because I would be lying, if I did.
I got the call from my senior manager, who wanted to let me know that dancing at work means a warning letter. (read-being written up.) Then she asked me if I was sure I hurt myself dancing. I understand that she was trying to be gracious. I get that she was trying to give me an "out." But I apologized for any inconvenience, since the fact that I hurt my foot dancing a little step means that workman's comp will be denying my claim, and now they have to go to the trouble to discipline me. Oh, gosh! Shame on me for having a moment of jubilation and not being willing to lie about it.
Meanwhile, I have been ordered to see a doctor approved by workman's comp, who happens to be out-of-network from my health insurance. The workman's-comp-approved doctor has ordered me to physical therapy, which means if I get the denial from WC while going to PT, I will have to discontinue PT, go see my PCP and get her to re-order it, which will take time, all while I am out of work.
O G! (oh, gee!)
But what am I doing now?
Sitting by the phone, waiting for the WC case worker to call me and tell me what to do.
I think I'll get out my rubber exercise band and do my OWN PT!
Now, who will I charge for it?

The Impatient Patient

Wah! I am a whiney baby when I'm hurt. I don't like being in pain. I have no idea how my sister copes, having real issues with pain. My own issues are so temporary, compared with hers.
But, there you have it. I am a big, whiney baby.
The good news is that I am surrounded by people who are extremely merciful.

I ended up not getting to go to the orthopedic specialist. Turns out when you hurt yourself at work, it's considered an on-the-job injury. (even if you weren't doing your job when it happened)
Dancing isn't exactly in my job description.
I figured that since I got hurt doing something non-work-related, that it would be wrong to file for workman's compensation. Instead, I got in big, fat trouble for not reporting the injury immediately.
Well, I would be in much more trouble if I didn't have a very understanding manager. (a VUM, if you will) Apparently, it is against company policy to not report an injury. In fact, it's such a no-no that I learned I would be given a warning letter, which would stay in my file for a year, meaning I can't bid on any other jobs for that time. But my VUM appealed to the OSHA director with my reasoning, and it seems that they may decide to give me grace, since I thought I was doing the right thing.
Meanwhile, I was given a list of approved doctors to visit, and saw one of them the next day. She concurred with Dr. Wilcox's diagnosis of a torn plantar fascia, but decided to just give it time to heal. I have to go back in a week and let her re-check. I still have to stay off it; I'm not allowed to drive; I have to ice it for 15 minutes every hour and take the medicine Dr. Wilcox had already prescribed.
But I have to say, I really want to chuck the crutches and just WALK to the bathroom when I need to potty. I am tired of watching TV. I would really love to just read a book, but I can't go to the library. The anti-inflammatory drug I am taking knocks me flat, and gives me a headache.
But I am home. I have seen my kids a lot. I have held my doggies. I have slept during the night. I have had really great friends bring me dinner. I am being well taken care of. I have no reason to complain.

Raining and pouring, etc.

Several weeks ago, I fell and hyperflexed my knee. It has been a miserable recovery, but I am almost there. Unfortunately, due to some frivolity on my part, I cannot walk, yet again, because I tore the plantar fascia on the bottom of my right foot.

The ER doctor has referred me to an orthopedist and I'll be checking in with him early next week. We shall see. I have no idea how long I'll be out of work, but I am under orders to not bear weight on it, prompting me to hobble around on some very fashionable crutches.