FAT CHICKS DON'T BOUNCE

This is something that I have come to learn over the past couple of days.

You see, my body is designed for one thing: comfort.  Comfort on lots of levels.  For example; enjoying food and cooking, cuddling my nieces and nephews, special cuddling Charlie (best comfort of all), or just chillin’ out.

What it is not built for, is moving quickly and bouncing.

When the moving quickly is initiated, it results in me falling and not bouncing.

It result is me falling and staying fallen.

I remember when I was younger, I use to bounce.  I also use to have good reflexes that would stop me before I fell and needed to bounce.

Now all of that’s failed me. My own preservation system has let me down.

I remembered this whilst I was laying on the floor of the kitchen last Sunday morning, just before Charlie was to head out to a golf competition, and Jade and I were to head out to a family picnic.

Whilst they were laughing hysterically at me falling, I was laying on my side, too frightened to move, because I knew I’d done something to my knee.  All I could think was I just don’t need this shit now.  Not now. Please don’t do this to me…

However, the universe did not hear my silent prayers, and fucked me over it did.

‘What’s the matter?’ Charlie said, suddenly appearing beside me, all humour gone.

‘I think I’ve done something to my knee…’ I started crying, still to frightened to move.

‘Try to get up.  You may be able to walk it off?’ he suggested.  I pushed myself up, and in doing so, put pressure on my knee, which resulted in cries of pain and more tears.

Now, I have a very high tolerance level for pain, as you know.  This fucker was bad.

‘I’ll try to pull you up.’ He suggested.  Fucken good luck with that, I thought.  Have you seen how heavy I am?  You ain’t that strong…

I gripped his arm, but as soon as he lifted me, and there was pressure on my knee, I just screamed in pain, and he sat me down again.  What am I going to do?  How am I going to get up?  OMG!  They’re going to have to get a crane in to lift me off the floor!

I looked around to see what I could pull myself up on, and everything I saw (chairs, bench, table) all required me to push on my two legs… and I couldn’t…

Then I got an idea.  I dragged myself so elegantly (picture an elephant seal flapping toward the water) across the kitchen floor to the steps at the split level.  I swung my legs (insert lots of crying) over the steps and rested my feet on the floor below.

Charlie easily pulled me to my feet.

Ten minutes later, he’s out the door to golf (important tournament, and nothing more he could do) and I was sitting on the couch with an ice pack on my knee wondering if I should go to the hospital.

Bendigo Hospital has a physio department in the ER.  They’ll tell me what I’ve done… what if I’ve fucked my knee up?  What if I have to have a reconstruction or something? What if I have to do rehab? What if I have to miss work?  Or my markets? Or fucken Christmas? AAAAHHHHH!!!!

Maybe I just need to calm the fuck down, and Jade and I can continue on to the family picnic.  The basket was in the car, I just had to get myself into it.

I could walk on my knee.  I just couldn’t bend it, so I hobbled out to the car, and through lots of screaming and tears, I got myself behind the wheel.

‘You can’t go like this Lee… you need to go to hospital or something…’ Jade pleaded, and I started crying.

‘I want to go to the picnic!  People will think this is an excuse for me not to come… I want to go…’ I cried harder now.  Too worried about what people will think.

‘You can’t, Lee.  You just can’t.’ I looked into Jade’s face, and she looked so sad, and I felt so guilty.  I just didn’t know what to do.

‘We’ll give it a trial run.’ I suddenly got an idea. ‘I have to take the egg order down to the pub.  I’ll see how I handle that.  If I handle it okay, we’re outta here.’

‘And if not?’ Jade asked nervously.

‘Then I’m off to the hospital.’

Twenty minutes later, I had dropped Jade back at home (no point making her wait for hours in an ER when she could be at home studying for her exams – yeah right), called my cousin and told her I wouldn’t be going to the picnic, and I was on my way to Bendigo ER.

Fifty minutes later, I hobbled into ER and sat down next to a dude that had impaled himself on a star picket.

‘How the fuck did you manage that?’ I asked, trying to distract him a little, cos he said he felt like fainting.

‘I jumped a fence, and mis-timed it.  My calf got caught on the picket, and down I went.’

‘Shit mate…’

‘Wasn’t the brightest thing I’ve ever done.’ He smiled weakly.  You’re not alone with that one today.  However, at least you know how you fucked yourself up.  I can’t even remember how I ended up on the floor.  ‘What happened to you?’

‘I fell over in the kitchen… though to be honest, I don’t really remember falling.  My husband and daughter said I slipped on the tiles, but I can’t really remember, it happened so quick…’ fuck… I sound like an abuse victim.

An hour later (yep: only an hour!) I was hobbling to the back stalls of the ER, where the physio department was.

The nurse asked me to take a seat (ironic, since I can’t bend my fucken leg) and the physio would be with me shortly.  At least I could lay back and close my eyes for a minute.

And literally only a minute, because Scott the lovely physio was at my side nearly straight away.  ‘So, had a fall in the kitchen, Lee?’

‘Yep.’  I’m so proud.

‘So, what have you done?’  he asked, and I prattled about my stupid fucken knee.  He examined my leg, and poked and prodded away (insert sooking). ‘Well, I could do a few tests, but it would involve bending your leg, which will be quite painful.’

‘I can handle the pain if you can handle the screaming…’ I suggested.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Let’s do it.’ I said, and gritted my teeth.  Not too many tears later, young Scotty determined that the integrity of the knee was good, and I had just pulled the quad muscle above the knee.

Thank fuck.

‘Ice that baby for twenty minutes every two hours, for the next twenty four hours.  Ice it whenever you can.  You should be able to do a basic quad stretch by the end of the week.  If not, you need to get further treatment.  You can go and see your local GP?’

‘Can I cut out the middle-man and go straight to my osteo?’

‘If you have one, do it.  Get it treated.  You will be out of action for about two to three weeks.  No gym.  No tennis.  No nothing.  Take. It. Easy.’

Fuck.  I don’t know what’s worse.  The pain and inconvenience, or having to slow down.  I don’t have time for this shit!  Fucken body!

For the rest of the afternoon and evening, I changed over ice packs and sat on my fat arse sooking in front of the telly.  What a way to spoil a great weekend.

When I hobbled off to bed, Charlie had to lift my fucken useless leg into the bed for me.  What the fuck am I going to do if I need the toilet through the night?  Wake Charlie up?  No…. I’ll just pee in the bed. 

As I lay there, staring at the ceiling, and cursing the universe for this massive inconvenience, I realised that I had to go to the dentist tomorrow.  Holy crap.  I just want to stay home!

Oh no! I’ve got work on Tuesday!  Not that work is a problem, but the two flights of stairs that I run up and down fifty million times a day are!  How am I going to manage that?

Gaaaaa…. It’s going to be a long three weeks.

Peace out.