I wasn’t kidding when I said it hurt.

So I don’t think I told you about my little fall last week. Probably because I didn’t think anything of it at the time – you all know how clumsy I am, and if I told you about every bump, bruise, and scrape, the blog would start to sound like a retirement home where the old folk sit around and complain about medical ailments all day. So I didn’t say anything.

But since I’m going to tell you anyway, I might as well start at the beginning. What happened was that I was climbing up on the counter, like I’ve done a thousand times, to get a pitcher on the top shelf of the cabinet. I put the pitcher down, and then started to jump back down. All of this is facing the cabinets, by the way, because there isn’t much room to turn around up there on that teeny tiny counter. It’s important to keep that in mind, because as I jumped down, my right leg didn’t actually clear the counter so much as it scraped along it the entire way down. My knee got the worst of it: I was trying like hell not to scream out loud when my kneecap jammed against the countertop, and I was so out of it for a minute because THE PAIN! that I landed on the very knee I was trying to clutch. So. Yeah. Totally fell off the counter.

I knew it was going to be bad because my knee bruised up right away. On my kneecap and just below it, I had what my mom always called a raspberry – when it looks like a scrape, but the blood is technically below the surface. Like a bruise and scrape hybrid. So I had that all going on, and then later there was swelling and not a little tenderness to the touch. Ouch. Except I figured I’d be fine. I’ve banged myself up quite a bit over the years and everything seems to heal on its own if you’re careful and baby the injury a little and apply lots of ice. So that’s what I did.

Except a week later, the bruise looked worse instead of better. I still couldn’t kneel on even my memory foam mattress; in fact, I couldn’t even touch my knee without a great deal of pain. And it was swollen. Sometimes I questioned whether it was in fact swollen – it was just one part of the knee, on the front just below the kneecap and to the side. It was worse at the end of the day, or like that night when I dropped a jelly jar and it smashed all over the kitchen floor and after I swept everything up, I forgot about my knee and kneeled on the tile floor, yeah that made the swelling worse too. The entire injury was getting worse instead of better, and even though everyone at work was making fun of me for complaining about it so much, Bee’s friend’s mom (who’s a nurse) took one look at it this weekend and suggested I have it x-rayed.

You guys, I fractured my kneecap. Okay, okay – it’s just a teeny tiny fracture and a bone bruise, and maybe I might have stretched the ligaments a little. They gave me a fancypants knee brace that covers half my leg and said I could switch to the elastic knee brace (like I have for running) as tolerated. But there really isn’t anything that can be done for a fracture as minor as the one I have. Thank god. Because I’m feeling cursed enough without needing surgery…but we’ll get to that more in a minute. The point is – ice, elevate, no running for a few weeks, and follow up with a orthopedist in a week if there’s no improvement or things get worse.

But all of that wasn’t even the most bloggable thing that happened during my little adventure. Because as I’m hobbling along out of the ER, with my full-leg knee brace on, I nearly get run over by a truck. Yes, really! And I was in the crosswalk. Hobbling along with my leg brace, like the most obvious person to see in the history of pedestrian crossings! I was crossing that tiny little street between the ER doors and the parking lot, you know, where you swing around to drop someone off or pick someone up? I was in that crosswalk. And a big ol’ silver F-150-type truck steps on the gas, swings around the corner, swerves over to the wrong side where I’m two steps away from the other side of the street, and slams on his brakes, tires screeching and everything. The way he seemed to head straight for me even though I was nearly across the street, I thought it must be one of my friends pushing a joke a little too far. Because I was scared to death! My life flashed before my eyes and I instinctively put one arm out, like I was going to stop it, and the guy actually ran into my hand and came within an actual inch of hitting the rest of me with this truck before he stopped moving. I stood there with my hand on the hood, leaning into it and catching my breath, checking to see which one of my friends I needed to scream at for scaring me like that. Only it wasn’t anyone I knew. And he was falling all over himself apologizing and holding his heart like he was scared. I took a deep breath and finished hobbling back to my car, checking 34029348209385 more times to make sure no one else was going to accidentally hit me. The guy must have watched to see where I went, because as I was collecting myself in my car, he walked over. For a minute, I thought he was going to go all road rage and yell at me for being in the crosswalk. Because I’m a rebel breaking pedestrian rules like that, yo. Turns out he just wanted to apologize over and over again. He said he was meeting someone and just didn’t see me, blah blah blah blah blah. I told him I was fine, I was very glad he had stopped in time and not actually hit me and finally got him to shut up and go away so I could leave. I had to be nice to him – apparently there is a curse surrounding me I have to break.

So that was my very exciting Sunday morning. A knee fracture, a heart attack, and a guardian angel who likes to play with the thinnest of safety margins. And how was your weekend?


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