blown

For those of you who have been so kind and supportive during this plague of a year, I am here to report that it isn't quite over. I know I know: think positive.

So there I was, thinking positive, accompanying my husband on a birthday ride down to Todai, the asian buffet, where he gets a free birthday dinner and I get to pay a fortune for mine. I was getting off the motorcycle, still thinking positive, and made the little hop I usually do when climbing off the back of the bike. I'd done the same thing just this morning. But something went wrong. I heard a tear and a snap, kind of a ripping sound accompanied by severe pain and screaming -- well, it was actually yelling and pissing my pants. Now, I love my new white pants which I should not have been motorcycle riding in anyway, and was more concerned with needing to rinse them out and what will people think? but my attention was quickly and brutally yanked from vanity to pain.

"Not good," I said. "This is very very bad." I think I kept saying this because my husband sort of kept looking at me. I suppose I was in shock. So, I asked him to get off the bike (the passenger always gets off first and then the driver) so I could throw my good leg around and get off the bike. I made it and off we gimped into Todai, my loving husband offering to walk something like quasimoto so I wouldn't feel alone. I couldn't eat, really. I finally know what it takes to make me lose my appetite. And they were out of vanilla soft serve and hardly had any creme brulee so whatever.

As we left, I had to take three flights of escalators down -- up hadn't been so bad -- and that was terrifying. I couldn't commit easily. The little stairs seemed to be going at mach speed and I had to choose one. Just one to put my one good leg on. And if I put my weight on the handrails, they'd jerk me forward. Jeez.

So, finally I made it down. I could see out on street level some homeless people begging on the street. One of them, I thought it was a young boy, had a cane. "Hey, let's knock over that kid and take his cane," I said, altruistically. When we got through the double doors, I saw it was a woman. She asked us for money. My husband said, "Let us use your cane to get across the street and I will." So Sharon Moore, aka "Little Mama" let me use her cane and her shoulder, which was about 4 feet high. She went on and on about helping each other and I couldn't disagree. She saved my ass tonight and he gave her some money.

So, I managed to get back on the motorcycle and made it home, off the bike, up the stairs and into my house where I am happy to be at last. I will find out what is wrong on wednesday when I see the orthopedist if I live that long. Think positive.

So, there you have it. The update from the sickroom. Although to be more precise, I am not sick. I feel terrific thanks to vitamin D, my knee is just really really painful right now. I know now what people mean when they say "I blew out my knee." That is exactly what it feels like.