What really happened? Well, it was animal related - my MIA status.
It was the cat's fault. All Her Royal Tailless Snappyness was doing was sleeping . . . possibly purring. This is normal - but where she chose to slumber was unexpected. SO unexpected that I fell down (possible threw myself down) five garage steps until I splayed onto the concrete floor. Somehow, I managed to levitate myself over the cat slumbering on the stairs.
Having birthed three children, busted my head and arm open in an all-terrain vehicle accident, several failed childhood suicide attempts . . . I have never felt such searing pain. Mainly in the ankle regions of my appendages.
We have to put this in chronological perspective as well, because THE VERY DAY BEFORE this a friend and I went to three Civil War Battlefield sights in Franklin, TN and the theme of the day was appendages - the loss thereof, in particular. In fact this friend and I had stayed up all night (again) ruminating over the severity of the war, the injuries, and the deplorable decisions by Hood that lead to the carnage.
So, I and my apparently disconnected legs lay tangled on the concrete. I couldn't breathe, it hurt so much. "It" meaning - everything. My back, my shoulders, my hands and wrists where I had tried to catch myself, but worst of all - below the knees just seared and sang with so much pain they were almost numb. I did some lamaze breathing. I shed tears. I collapsed when I tried to push myself up with my arms.
After about 10 minutes of writhing and gasping, I managed to sit up somewhat and although I couldn't feel how the feet were connected to my legs, I visually assured myself that they were, indeed, there. So - this is good, no? Because: 1) I don't have to wave goodbye to my own leg from the window (as did some of the Confederate and Union soldiers in the war); 2) Well, at this point I couldn't think of a 2nd good thing!
When I felt I could talk I scouted to the van on my bruised behind and retrieved the already packed cell phone. Who to call? My friend was in the house, but she was sleeping 3 levels away with the very loud, highly coveted hurricane fan on . . . in the the cave sleeping chamber . . . no way would she hear my screaming. Humm, also her cell phone was on the charger in the basement so it would do no good to call that phone.
So, I decide to call my husband. He is a PT, if nothing else he can come home and scrape me off the cement. I was so shaky I had a hard time calling the number . . . and, of course, he didn't answer the cell, which meant he was with a patient. I decide this qualifies as an emergency and call the front office - I squeak out that I need Don and that it is an emergency . . . so he leads me through a few toe moving tests and we determine that the right ankle/foot is not broken, but the left probably is. He advises ice. So I crawl back up the steps, get icepacks and lay on the couch. I figure my friend will wake up and can take me to the doctor or when my son gets home he can drive me.
Before that can happen my son calls from school saying he is sick with a fever. So. I can drive with my right foot so I go get him at school . . . he drives home and drops me at the doctor and I get xrays . . . and diagnosed, 1 sprain, another bad sprain and a crushed outer ankle bone (that triangle thingy that sticks out), do the air cast/boot, get painkillers . . . home. My son goes back to the dr. on his own. He has mono. Lauren comes home, sick. Dylan takes her to the doctor. My friend wakes up in this chaos - we laugh as I giggle on my painkillers and we imitate General Hood waving his shoulder stump as he tries to say good bye to his own arm. We are, obviously, evil beings. We have never laughed so hard.
So that was all about 4 weeks ago. I am off the crutches and am down to braces and wraps for the ankle and can hobble almost anywhere. The worst part is trying to walk down stairs. (remember, my studio is down a very steep flight of stairs, I didn't see it for a whole week). If I have been on my feet too long I am exhausted . . . but, you know - it could have been so much worse. For a few days I had the perfect excuse to sit and talk and get giddy on painkillers. Not a bad way for the universe to inform me I better slow down OR ELSE! I found out what OR ELSE meant . . . just like the Fairygod Mother that swoops down and wacks Little Bunny Foo Foo on the head.
So that gives you a bit of the story of where I have been . . . not to mention the fact that I lost the information on how to access my very own blog for several weeks . . . I am back on track, back on my feet and there are NO MORE EXCUSES!
You can expect more updates, and the saga of how I am making it to Grand Rapids, MI in the near future!