Usually I confine my more serious injuries to my toes and feet: Both feet are covered in scars from strange accidents, and scratch and bite marks from the cats and dogs. It’s not unusual for me to have at least two broken toes at any given time. Right now I have a torn ligament and a hairline fracture on my big toe, and a stress fracture along the bone at the side of my right foot from falling down the stairs at my mom’s house.
Today I branched out. I was up all night helping Lia with an urgent assignment, so I was a bit loopy by morning and probably shouldn’t have been driving. After dropping her off at school, I could think of nothing else other than flopping in bed and crashing until Anya woke up and started demanding food (luckily she sleeps in). That’s a perk I get to enjoy when Lia procrastinates on an assignment, whereas she still has to go to school after she’s had no sleep!
So I stepped out of the car and shut the door, then felt a piercing pain in my right–um–let’s just say female body part. What on earth did I just do to myself??! Holy cow, I slammed the car door on it! Luckily nothing was trapped. I stumbled into the house, my eyes tearing up with the lingering agony. I regained enough presence of mind to text the details of this mishap to Lia. (I frequently send her texts like this in the hope that one day I’ll catch her off guard and she’ll lose it in class.)
Another minute passed and the stinging still hadn’t subsided. I was starting to get scared. I knew I’d have to look soon, but I don’t handle the sight of injuries well, mine or my kids’. Would I see blood? It hurt so badly I was afraid I was going to have to go outside and look for the missing body part.
Imagine walking past someone’s house and seeing one of those just lying there on the lawn, right next to their car.
My panic increased the longer I put off looking. How on earth would I explain this to the doctors at the ER? Except our new health insurance doesn’t kick in until April, so I’d probably just slap a band-aid on it–or bury the carnage. I started preparing myself for the inevitability of permanent lopsidedness.
Eventually I summoned the courage to have a peek, and was relieved to see that everything was intact. These things are really sensitive. You’d think I’d have learned that lesson from all the years of nursing little ones who are starting to experiment with their brand-new, razor-sharp teeth. Even a tiny little nibble feels like you just got mauled by a rabid wolverine.
All was well again in my little world, so I had a nice nap and forgot about the morning’s adventure. Then this evening, I was getting ready to settle down on the bed with my laptop for a bit of writing. I don’t even know how I managed this acrobatic feat, but as soon as I sat down, I found my arm twisted behind my back, stuck up to the shoulder between the mattress and the headboard. My bed had pinned me in a wrestling move and won. I was completely stuck, because if I tried to pull my arm out the wooden headboard started cutting into my arm. I thrashed around for a minute, trying to communicate to the rest of the family through my shrieks and giggles that I hadn’t finally lost the rest of my marbles, but was actually trapped and needed help. My husband had to pull the mattress out so I could get free.
My shoulder still aches, but it’s my bad shoulder anyway. I plan on actually sleeping tonight, but maybe tomorrow morning I should wrap myself up in bubble wrap, just in case.