Sunday, February 16, 2014

Slippetty Doo Dah

Last night I was out for a walk when I stepped on a patch of ice and zing went my feet, down went my body like something out of an old cartoon and my noggin got knocked hard on the blacktop. I lay there a minute or two, not seeing birdies or stars circling over head like those old cartoon, but I was sort of confused and stunned. Walking one second, then, flat on my back staring at Orion's belt with nothing much in between, like someone skipped the movie reel forward and skipped a lot of frames. No injuries from flinging out any random body part to futilely try and break the fall.

After I sat up and realized there were no bones sticking out and the only thing that hurt was the back of my head I got up and slunk away home in tears.  Jim got to call me his favorite old nickname "Miss Spasmo" because I've got three left feet and one of them is on backwards. I've always been clumsy, except when I used to take ballet. I wasn't spastic at ballet, just at life. This hasn't changed as I've aged, it's gotten worse.

Fast forward to this morning after sleeping well all night even with a hideously large goose egg on my head. Got out of bed, took a step and started screaming with each right step. I might not have scrambled my brain on the way down but I did apparently make my bad knee much worse. ER visit and sent home in a knee brace from almost crotch to knee and told to stay off it and home til next weekend.

This device makes simple actions, like trying to get your pants down and pee, very problematic and feeling like a routine from Cirque du Soliel. Thank heavens I am at home having to do the loo loopdy loo dance. 

You want to know the worst, most difficult bit of all of this? No, not that it hurts like a *insert obscene words here*. No, not that I'll leave work high and dry during a state audit. It's that I had/have a hard time letting Jim take care of me. Seriously, letting go of everything and letting someone else meet my needs is more jarring than the injury.

I was getting dressed and preparing to drive to the ER, figuring that there's no reason both of us should miss church. Jim stepped in and said oh no, he was skipping church to take me to the hospital. He sat there the long boring intervals between xrays and doctors with me, carried my purse for me, picked me up at the ER in our car, and the list goes on and on. I love him for it and it really proves my point from yesterday that it's not that one day of the year that determines if someone truly loves you, it's the day to day.

Since I had no expectation that he would do this I was blessed by his behavior. It's just so hard letting go of control when you are the one that is usually doing for others. I wonder how Debi Pearl would have spun this in her book "Created To Be His Help Mate"? I'm betting she would have said in her book that she would have gone on to church and pasted a smile on her face after filling the crock pot with food stuffs.

 Wonder if I can get Jim to sweep, mop and vacuum tomorrow?

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