It seems that one of the hurdles in my home's dog-proofing obstacle course -- a heavy, wooden board that spans my bedroom doorway -- conspired with my new Crocs sandles TO KILL ME!
Think I'm exaggerating? Really? Well, as I stepped over the barricade, the extra-wide lip of my right extra-comfy shoe grabbed onto the upper lip of the board, where it held fast as my as my left leg attempted to follow suit.
In what seemed like an eternity, and I swear that everything was moving in slow motion, I realized that I was sailing into the narrow hallway, head-first for the door frame across from me. As I hit the frame and watched my glasses fly off my face, I thought that pain was bad enough... until I realized that I was still in mid-air and my trajectory had changed to falling straight down onto my right kneecap... full force.
That's when slow-mo sped into fast-fwd and I hit the floor with such an impact, my son thought a tree had fallen on the house. He rushed up to see what happened, finding me crumpled on the floor in agony... glasses 5 feet away, cell phone 10 feet away, me in a fetal position and screaming.
His first question was, "What do you want me to do? Call 911?" I told him not to do that, just get me an ice pack. His next question was, "Will you be able to drive me to practice?" Sure, just put a stick between my teeth to clamp down on and drag me to the car. For the next 15 minutes that he had to sit and wait for the bus, he sulked. Nice.
I called my mother, the nurse, and told her what the whole tale I just recounted to you. She rushed out and bought me a knee stabilizing brace. (And an extra large coffee.) I located an old cane made out of a tree branch that I'd had propped in a corner for years (always wondered when I'd need it), took a couple of Advil, then attempted to get my day started... albeit a few hours later than I'd thought.
The first to return home from school were my younger two, who were gone by the time this had happened. Surprised by me answering the door in a knee brace and a cane, they asked, "What happened to you?"
I always like to impart some wisdom that they can share with their peers later. "Crocs are dangerous. Mine tried to kill me," I told them. Once they understood that, there was a pause before the next question... "Does this mean we don't have to go to Tae Kwon Do today?!" Nice.
A half-hour later, my eldest returned home and ran to where I was to see if I was feeling any better. Okay, that's only partly true. He returned home and ran upstairs to play videogames with his brother. He's been home for 3 hours now and hasn't inquired about my knee. Nice.
I'd like to report that I'm okay, but I really can't tell. It's only been 11 hours since the accident and I'm feeling more and more like I've been hit by a truck. First I only noticed my knee, which feels like someone's trying to pry the cap off with a hot poker. A few hours later, my neck and shoulder started to twinge with pain. Now it feels like my whole spine has been shifted this-way and that-way and every joint in my body sounds like a bowl of Rice Krispies. "Snap, crackle, pop!" Nice.
My mother's only words of encouragement when she left here went something like this: "You think you're hurting now? Just wait 'til tomorrow!"
Niiiiiiice.
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