Yesterday while I was taking out the trash from the bathroom, I stepped on a piece of paper that had fallen on the floor. One leg went behind me and the other kinda turned in and I went down hard on my knee, the same knee I always seem to fall on or twist or something.
I yelled in pain, as doing a half split and falling on a knee that gets the brunt of my clumsiness didn’t feel very good. Little Man came running in to see what had happened.
“Oh my god, are you okay?” he asked, very concerned.
“Yes,” I said, wincing. “I just need to try to get up.”
“I’ll call Daddy!”
“No, Daddy doesn’t have a phone, I just need–”
“Then I’ll call 911 and tell them to come get you!”
“No,” I said. “I’m fine. I just need to get to the couch.”
Little Man helped me up and again said that we probably needed to call 911. I assured him that wasn’t necessary and made it to the couch. It was hurting pretty bad, but I did make it to the couch, so it was definitely not as bad as the time I tore my MCL. (Which I never rehabbed and likely contributed to the knee turning in so easily.)
It was swelling already, so I elevated it and waited for Sam to come home. He did, about an hour later.
“Daddy!” Little Man shouted when Sam came in. “Mommy fell and hurt herself again! She went ka-boom!”
Sam looked concerned. “I didn’t explode. I just fell and hurt my knee,” I informed him.
“Again?” Sam asked.
“It sure sounded like a ‘ka-boom’ when you fell,” LM said. Lovely. Me falling sounds like a bomb went off.
Sam got me an ice pack and some ibuprofren and I rested my knee the rest of the day and most of today. It’s swollen and hurts, but seems okay. Whew, no crutches. I hate crutches. I can’t stand the smell of the rubber on the arm pads or the grips. And pain. I hate that, too. It’s a close second to the rubber smell.
“You fall down more than anyone I know,” Sam told me today.
“Maybe y’all shouldn’t leave stuff in the floor,” I responded.
“Maybe you should be used to moving around our obstacles by now,” Sam countered, grinning.
“You know they say that hearing affects your balance,” I said.
“Yeah. Your hearing. That’s it. You’ve probably been injured more times in the time we’ve been together than I have my whole life. My clumsy baby. And you passed it on to Little Man.” The boy has only broken something once, but he is bad about tripping over stuff and falling down.
I sighed. “Well, as many times as I’ve fallen on that knee, I hope I don’t need a replacement or whatever one day.”
“Oh, you will,” Sam said. “And you’ll need at least one hip replacement.”
“A hip replacement? I’ve never even injured my hips.” I did break my ass once, but my hips are gold.
“Wait until you get old. You’ll be one of those old ladies that falls down and breaks a hip all the time. You’ll get a hip replacement.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re so supportive.”
And that was my exciting weekend. Last weekend it was Pukefest #2. The weekend before it was Pukefest #1. January 2016 was not very fun. Next weekend will hopefully be spent kicking off Little Man’s birthday week festivities and watching the Panthers win the Super Bowl. No puke and no injuries are my goals.