It Wouldn't Be Me Without A Disaster

So, I was silly enough to think we could have a long weekend/mini-vacation along with rejoicing at the reduced/subsidized cost so I didn't have to fret that I'd spent money (which is genetic - I'd fret about it no matter how much we had in the bank) but of course it didn't end that way at all. Everything was wonderful, fun and lovely until Sunday when we left for dinner - which was delicious, relaxing, elegant and delectable despite Fate's efforts, so HA! on her. We were walking through the lobby on our way out of the lodge. The lobby has these slate tiles that are not uneven, exactly, but are textured like natural stone, with teeny tiny ridges. A toddler could do it, which obviously means I was unequal to the challenge. I caught the toe of my right shoe on the tiniest of ridges and pitched forward, all my weight going down on my left knee.

Now, to most anyone else this would be an embarrassment (trust me, I was embarrassed) and maybe a bruise, but not much else. Not so your faithful narrator! Real-life friends might remember about ten years ago, I took a fall on a downtown Atlanta street while I was out at lunch, making the bank deposits and getting a sammich. Me being me, I couldn't fall on the 78 thousand acres of cement in downtown Atlanta; no, I had to fall smack in the middle of a sidewalk grate and this split my knee wide open. It hurt, but I didn't realize how bad it was until I'd walked back to my building and gone upstairs to my office. I had on black pantyhose, which were in shreds, so I went to the ladies' room to remove them and clean up what I thought was a scrape. I'll spare you the details but what was seen cannot be unseen.

My boss says he'll never forget this moment. I came into his office, sat down in one of the visitors' chairs and waited quietly while he finished up his phone call. Then I said calmly, "Hey, I don't mean to be a pussy or anything, but I think you need to take me to the emergency room." The only reason I was bothering him was that I (then, and still two cars later) had a stick shift, it was my left knee and I didn't think I could clutch properly. He took me to Crawford Long, where it took eighteen stitches, seven of them subcutaneous, to close up my knee.

Back to present day, when I stumbled in the lobby and went down on my knee, I managed to bust my knee wide open right across the ridge of scar tissue from the above incident. Alan and Mom wanted me to go to urgent care but I refused to spend the last evening of my far-too-short, far-too-infrequent vacations sitting in a waiting room waiting to be punctured. We went to dinner, had a fabulous time, it was GREAT. Alan agreed that I could disinfect and bandage the wound but if it showed signs of infection, it was off to the ER for me. I conceded.

Now, if I'd written this post earlier, it would have ended here - haha, my klutzy ass and another misadventure! But wait there's more.

Ever since I glued and bandaged my knee (no, not with antifungal nail glue, this stuff called New Skin that's made for that purpose, though I can't blame anyone who knows me for thinking nail glue, or maybe Elmer's), I've been completely fine. We went to brunch Monday, came home and unpacked, I went back to work, drove my car, ran errands, all was normal. I walked a bit differently and maybe hesitantly, trying not to re-open the wound but I had no pain or difficulties.

Thursday when I woke up, a place on the side of my foot was aching, rather like a bruise, but it didn't hurt particularly badly so although I noticed, I didn't think much of it. By 1PM or 2PM that day, however, my foot had swollen to clownlike proportions, was throbbing so badly I was crying at my desk, and I couldn't bear to put any weight on it whatsoever, not even to stagger three steps to my mini-fridge for a water. I work in the middle of a giant office complex and I couldn't imagine how I was going to get all the way through the labyrinth of my building, across another building and to my parking deck, much less home, since I couldn't even walk to my file cabinet. It was horrible. And of course the twisted Helly humor is there because if someone asked me, "What happened to your foot?", I'd have to say "I don't know," because I didn't do ANYTHING to my foot, I cut my knee!

In order to get me home , Matt dropped Alan off at my office, he had to fetch a wheelchair from Medical and ferry my butt out of the complex in a wheelchair! AAAAAAAAAAAGH! The humiliation! People were looking at me! Y'all know I hate that! Again Alan wanted the doctor; again I rebelled. We compromised. I would be allowed the evening to use cold compresses, elevation, aspirin and horsey liniment (don't laugh, horsey liniment is better than anything I know for backaches, muscle soreness, tendon pulls...) but if there was no progress, I was doctor-bound.

Ahem. So, starting yesterday at 10:30, I spent the day between the doctor's office and Rockdale Medical being x-rayed. We still don't know what I've done, whether it's a severe sprain from walking oddly to pamper the knee or a stress fracture or something else. I have prescriptions, plural - and I hate taking pills almost as much as I hate people looking at me or going to the doctor. So I've done something horribly painful to myself but I'm not sure what yet. I go back Monday at 2PM for results.

Oh, P.S., Dr. Desai says my knee is fine, cut healing nicely, no signs of infection or any damage to the kneecap itself. It figures.