Tuesday, January 13, 2015


Wouldn’t you know it?  Just when I need to be searching for possible new living situations for my dad (now in rehab), my knee gives out and I find myself laid up on the couch with a bag of ice.  I would like to tell you that I was training for my first half marathon or even that I turned quickly to stop a child from running into the street but I was walking into the house when I heard a loud POP and dropped to the floor.  Thankfully Jeff was on his way home because I was starting to picture myself wasting away on the hall floor.  My family would find my crumpled body lying next to my purse and coat.  But knowing my husband was on his way, I literally dragged myself into the closest room and pulled myself into a chair.  It was very dramatic, with lots of wincing and ‘ouch’ing.  I feel justified, though, because I can’t put any weight on it at all. 

So our plans to go to Jeff’s mom’s to watch the Ducks in the national championship football game (since we don’t have cable) were scrapped and we pretended we were Ma and Pa Walton huddled around the radio listening to the Buckeyes beat the Ducks up.  But Livy and John didn’t have the internet to give them this kind of cool graphics, did they?  We could almost visualize the players on the green rectangle! 

natl championship game
(This was snapped at a hopeful but short-lived time in the game.)

Now I  will be wheeling gingerly around the house in my mom’s wheelchair for a few days (I know because this has happened before).  This made me remember that when one of our daughters was about 7 years old, she used to tell us she wished she could wear glasses, have headgear with a jean strap and use a wheelchair – I have no idea why but she was always fascinated with accessories.   Tonight she told me I am living her dream.

I’ll be sleeping in a recliner.  I am being waited on (which I don’t enjoy but SO appreciate).  I’m forced to stay home and let my husband put my sock on, refill my ice bag, bring me ibuprofin and listen to me whimper.  I promise the blog will not turn into a blow-by-blow of my recovery.  But thanks for letting me whine.

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