I wake up three times during the night, the nagging ache in my leg persistent enough to warrant a careful change of position that becomes impossible to find about six hours after bedtime. By this time I’m forced to pop a new dose of painkillers if for the sole purpose of getting at least another hour of sleep. I manage two more hours instead and then have to get up…if for no other reason than the pack making a racket and threatening to start bouncing on me.
Getting up I realize the problem ahead when I find myself clumsily dodging my way through the dogs and stay at a good for feet’s distance from the front door, debating at how I’m going to achieve unlocking it without undue discomfort. I’m not at all looking forward to wading between the thronging masses of fur and muscle, each and every one of them waiting impatiently for freedom, and yet that stupid door is not going to open on itself.
I end up leaning over the dogs awkwardly to turn the key and then stagger back one step on my good leg when they break free and dash into the morning sunlight.
Still a tad unstable (emotionally, that is) I need to take several calming breaths. It is fear that’s keeping me off an even keel, I think. The pain is bearable to say the least, but it is the thought of having the dogs slam into the fragile joint that has me hyperventilate for a bit. Fear, it is a nasty thing.
With some difficulty, I manage to get dressed, very slowly, in sweats, pack up my bag and exit the cabin after only half of the usual morning rituals.
Standing on the porch, I stare at the steps–one’s still missing–and for a moment panic as I wonder how the heck I’m going to get off…and then walk down the uneven path leading towards the house to boot.
By this time grandpa has arrived in carport and assures me that he’ll carry my bag and follow closely behind as I decide to carefully lower myself on my butt and slide off the porch instead of using the steps. It goes pretty will, and using mom’s cane to keep the dogs off, as much as for balance, I start on the slow progress of descending the mountain.
My left leg is complaining considerably by the time I finally make it into the courtyard. The dogs dash ahead of me and walk straight into big brother who’s awaiting my arrival and thankfully keeps them all at a safe distance from me.
Seeing as laundry certainly isn’t going to work today, I only have a quick breakfast (standing on one leg, of course. It’s like playing hopscotch all over again, hah) and put the coffee on before I sit down on the table so we can inspect the damage in the bright light of day.
My lower leg is swollen a bit and the bandages have left a deep impression around my knee, but other than that the arnica gel appears to have done it’s job during the night. There’s only a slight swelling on the left side of my knee, where most of the discomfort is located, and I prod at the limb for a bit to be absolutely sure that the kneecap wasn’t damaged during the entire debacle.
All seems well, and by the time big brother and grandpa are forced to head outside to fix another fence, I stagger around the house, gathering what I need to have a quick shower. This is certainly not an easy task with one leg not functioning properly. Heck, even with two fully functioning legs it’s tricky on most days. To get to the shower, I need to go through the recently hosed down patio, where tiles (now wet) cover the floor. It can be dangerously slippery in there, and I carefully limp through it. In the end I manage to reach the shower safely and get the task over and done with.
Though there is some debate about whether or not we should go to school today, I finally do convince big brother that my present state has little to do with my brain, so the impending trip is agreed upon with a promise that I won’t push anything and let him know if halfway through I can’t keep it up anymore, so we can go home instead of doing our usual hour and a half.
Admittedly a knee has no actual connection with brains, it is distracting. Writing, which was my main plan for the day isn’t working, what with focus being elusive, so I end up chatting online a bit and then read from one of the review books on the computer instead, until it is time to leave for school.
Prudently I start my way up to the cabin at least ten minutes early, and need every single minute of that extra time to get ready until we’re finally on our way to town.
Much to my relief it is a quiet day at the school when we arrive, not warranting any unnecessary explanations as we head on in to the back and start on the tests.
For me the process is a slow one today, but in the end I manage 210 questions with only one error, which is an excellent score and matches that of big brother who got ninety more questions under his belt, hah.
Next, we head for a big supermarket, and rather than wisely stay in the car–the way big brother suggested–I decide to go along. I limp inside thinking that all’s going pretty well, right until we’re in the middle of the massive chain store and the eighth hour of my painkiller arrives. Darn things! And here I thought it was going so well. Apparently it was doing an excellent job since now I’m leaning more than a little on the cane, wondering if my kneecap’s going to turn into a melting bit of lava and ooze it’s way to my foot. I just barely make it back to the car to catch my breath.
Luckily we only have one more store to go and then it’s back home for us…to my infinite relief.
Heading into the house, using the cane to keep the dogs from jumping up at me, the way they usually do, I dig into my bag for the painkillers immediately and douse a couple before I settle in a chair and after several minutes of breathing exercises start on dinner, prepared and handed to me by a worried looking little sister.
While in town, we rented Ben Stiller’s “Tropic Thunder”, which keeps us entertained for the rest of the evening that I spend lounging back on a chair with my legs propped up. Very decadent, and almost too relaxing, since my eyelids keep drooping down.
I found the movie to be a pleasant surprise. Robert Downey was downright brilliant in it, proving his mettle as an actor…especially in the end where he did a downright scary impression of Mel Gibson in the Lethal Weapon series. I was watching it, listening, and it was almost freaky. Heck, for a moment there we even wondered if Mel had perhaps lip-synced in that particular part. But it wasn’t just his voice, or accent; it was everything, the shifty, wide-eyed look, and the flash of teeth. Marvelous.
Though the story could have been better, it were the details that really made the movie a success for us…The fact that Tom Cruise was a not so charming character for a change was also a nice bonus, of course. Never thought I’d see the day where Cruise played an ugly sleaze ball. Hah.
By this time the evening has come to an end and I manage to wrestle my way up to my cabin again…only to call big brother on the house phone when I find that I still need a full bag of dog food to be carried inside. Though the painkillers are doing an excellent job of keeping my knee numb, I decide not to risk doing the lifting and carrying myself, lest I do some damage without actually noticing it.
I do know that through this entire busted knee thing, I’m happier than ever of having lost almost sixty pounds over the past few years, and that I have been effectively working out several times a week. I certainly do not want to contemplate what a complete disaster this discomfort would be without me being in shape and lugging all that extra weight around. Phew.
But anyway, big brother and I end up chatting for quite some time while my dogs are eating, and when he finally departs for his own quarters, it is already past two in the morning, making me hurry through the evening rituals so I can finish up for the day.
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