jaywalking, melon knees and gone with the wind
I feel like James Caan in Misery.
It’s cold. It’s winter. I’m crippled and drugged. A crazy person keeps popping their head around the corner with soup and crackers threatening to do me in if I don’t ‘hurry up and finish already’.
OK. I lied. The stranger’s in my mind. But the crippled and drugged part is true. My leg is elevated above my head and there’s nothing to do but read, write and sleep.
I jaywalked across a dual carriage way on New Years Eve and tore my knee apart for the effort. (Ok, I sorta fell down some steps too. But it was the crosswalk that did it.)
I’ve been hit by cars twice in the last five years (I’m not EVEN joking). Not my fault. At all. I blame it on rush hour madness and stupid drivers who think it’s OK to hit the gas (and any pedestrian in the way) at sight of a yellow light – even though people are still on the crosswalk and green’s a good two seconds behind.
Yep. Twice. And never got a scratch. Then last Saturday I stepped onto a sidewalk the wrong way and now my knee looks like a big fat melon. Did I mention it hurts. Bad.
The bite of it all is that I just got back from two weeks Christmas holiday. And now I have to take time off because I can’t find the disabled access at the train station and have to scoot up departmental steps on my rear (don’t ask). I called my boss this evening to let her know. Leave a message on Sunday night – empty office and all that. She answers the phone. Now that’s devotion brother.
So I wait to see what the good Doc says tomorrow morning when Uncle Bernard’s cane and I hobble into his surgery. I call my trainer and find out if the aerobics nut (her words, not mine) can do an hours worth of upper body and core only for the foreseeable future. I let the ladies in the office know I’ll be back as soon as I can walk up an incline. I take a double dose of ibuprofen for the knee. And use the time to finish this damn book.
Margaret Mitchell did it. Why can’t I?