Remember that last post? The one where the tiller basically wrecked my leg, yet I continued on, unabated, to till the garden? Yeah, there was that one...and now there's this one. I've decided that it might just be the summer of injuries, and you, my lucky followers will be the ones who get to read about my undying efforts to beautify the world, and the havoc that has wreaked upon my body! Oh...lucky you...read on (if you dare).
A week after that garden experience, I was working in our yard, planting seeds, pulling weeds, mowing the lawn, and basically prettying things up for the upcoming summer months. I was really trying to get a head start on the stuff that I usually do at a breakneck pace, when the school year is over. This particular Sunday, I'd reached the near end of my work day, and was feeling quite happy with the ratio of effort expended to results achieved.
My last task of the day was to dig up a lovely little dogwood tree, that had sprouted in our fence line, and move it to a more convenient place. I successfully parted the tree from it's little piece of ground, and was carrying it in one hand, the shovel in the other, with a silly dog trailing me, across the yard. I was happily imagining said dogwood growing larger, showing its beautiful blossoms, and arching over the yard from it's new location, when my foot wandered (all on its own) into a small hole. The toes went in first, which had me standing en pointe (albeit briefly) in the hole, while my body continued forward. At this point the tree went flying, the shovel went flying and I went head over foot over..well you guess it, and fell down!
I started to blubber senselessly in pain, and writhe around on the ground. I extracted my foot from the hole, and clutched it to my chest, while writhing more. The dog, ever the faithful EMT, began first aid, in the form of licking my face in any available spot, and panting, "what do you need, what do you need.." repeatedly in my face. Eventually, I came to my senses, managed to wipe off the dog slobber, and stood up, using the shovel as a crutch. I picked up the tree, and limped around the corner of the garage to get some help from Jazzman.
When Jazzman realized I was hurt, he came to my aide, encouraging me to sit down. By this time the shock of what had happened had worn off, the slobber had dried in my ears, and I was able to be more rational. I was worried the tree might die if I didn't get it planted, so Jazzman dug a hole and put it in the ground. I was feeling more like myself by this time, and walked, with a slight limp, over to get some water, and we got the tree planted, staked, and watered.
At this point, Jazzman decided I should go to ER. Now it was Sunday evening, and the next day was a school day. I had a broken ankle before, and I was pretty sure it was only slightly fractured, so I really didn't want to go to ER and spend my last evening of the weekend in the bright lights of the hospital, where they'd tell me I had a fracture, and ask me stay off it for a couple of weeks, give me an air cast, ask if I had crutches (anyone who is as klutzy as me DOES have crutches), and send me home after a three hour wait. So, I propped it up, had a glass of wine, and called it good.
Monday morning came and the ankle was pretty sore. I managed to limp through the school day, but decided ER would be a part of my after school agenda. Now, if you read the above prediction, it will save me typing it all over because, yes, that's what that ER Doc said....(I should just put MD after my name right now, it seems I am able to diagnose my ailments quite well).
The next day at school I used crutches, which was the ONLY day I did (sore arms, sore arm pits, sore sides, insert additional whining here). On day two through seven, I used the school's wheelchair to get around, which to my surprise wasn't that difficult. Of course I could still get out of it and limp to the bathroom, and stand to write on the board (on one foot). Since I am pretty tall, and usually taller than my students, it was a little bit bothersome to be "short" in the chair. The kids all wanted to push me down the hall, but after the first time, when we went so fast the wheels started to shimmy, I put an end to that.
I have been a good patient, I have followed the Doctor's orders, and my ankle has healed nicely. I am ultra cautious about holes, and I am careful when walking over uneven terrain. I am determined to keep myself safe for the rest of the summer, so I've invested in a suit of chain mail, some bubble wrap, and a couple of extra bike helmets. I am going to hire a private firm to walk in front of me, to make sure there are no hidden obstacles and I can safely get my way through summer. OR maybe I'll just continue as I always have, bruised, battered, scratched, and (sometimes) broken, and hope for the best! And, if you're interested, you can read about my klutzy adventures right here, next time!
