Dawn breaks cool, on the high desert prairie. The air smells fresh and the pollen counts are rising as the sun warms the plants.
-I am walking with my faithful companions Dalwhinnie Duchess of Dinkus, and Princess Poppy- Mistress of Mischief. We amble slowly along the dusty farm road-me lost in my thoughts and my companions-- lost in the weeds.
This morning,I am increasingly aware of strange little pains and stiffness which are present every morning, but today I am consciously examining.Let's see...
The left ankle sustained a trimalleolar fracture with a 6 pin insertion and a long leg cast in 1985-I think.
Right ankle, had umptynine sprains from 1962 through 1985 (and was essentially responsible for fracture of the left ankle-another story).
Torn cartilage right knee-1999?
Right shoulder, and multiple jammed fingers - Softball?
L5-S1, might have resulted from getting T-boned 2004 (stupid s*** ran a stop sign and told police It was my fault).
Well, that was fascinating-for me. I'm always amazed that every morning there are certain struggles involved in getting the old locomotive out of the barn and yet once moving, it just keeps going-kind of like an old Energizer bunny. It doesn't go fast, but it keeps going...
Aging is just kind of a funny thing that creeps along unnoticed, usually. In a way it's kind of a good thing, because it helps to mark time and provides important warnings about moving too quickly or turning too suddenly (very hazardous, just ask my friends.)
But my trip (no pun intended) down memory lane, reminded me of the story of the sprained ankle, which brought a smile to my heart.
In Spring 1962 I was getting ready for the Jr. prom--yes I am indeed that old. And for reasons that escape me, I volunteered to help decorate that Saturday afternoon and when we finished making a gymnasium a dreamy-creamy- balloon and crepe paper-festooned spectacle; my BFF Rick and I decided head over to Dairy Queen with some friends.
We arrived laughing and giggling and I noticed there was a large puddle, as I climbed out of the back seat which I leapt over with pure adolescent grace, landing on the lateral aspect of my right ankle and hearing a snap. Whoops,boo-boo coming. But at 17, who pays attention to that. We had our ice cream and went on over to Kathy's for the rest of the afternoon to talk, laugh and giggle and make fun of the cool kids at school (we were theater-freaks).
By the time we were ready to head home I noticed that my ankle was -minimally- twice the size of the other one and quite painful, so I limped a lot.
At our high school Junior Prom was a girls invitational and I had just the tiniest bit of trouble finding a date (I will save the saga of my freshman year boyfriend for another day. Needless to say he was not in the picture at the time). Dear Rick was kind enough to blackmail one of the orchestra members into taking me to the prom and then we could double with Rick and his date. It was all very exciting.
I had a bootyful (not THAT kind of booty-1962) dress and dyed 3"spike heels to match. The dress was a white strapless affair with a lavender band across the top forming a great bow at the back, a blousson skirt and covered with lavender flowers. It really was so much prettier than my description.
Anyway. After spending the time and a lot of money on that cute outfit, I would be damned to miss that prom! So, I foofed myself up, real purty and jammed my swollen foot into that glass slipper and off to the ball.
The irony is that my foot actually felt better at that angle- can't explain that, and probably physics-thing. We didn't dance much and I don't think my date was having a very good time, and besides both Rick and I were anxious to dump our dates and find something fun to do.
That something ended up being a trip to the emergency room at one in the morning (I think we were hoping to find some post prom parties but oddly enough were not invited to any).
We actually thought it was pretty fun hanging around the ER, watching the weirdos coming in, never thinking for a moment that they would actually call my parents (not very happy-might have been grounded) in an effort to obtain payment for said services. I was x-rayed, manhandled and finally had my leg taped and wrapped with strict warnings to stay off it and keep it wrapped for two weeks. A less than spectacular finish to my Junior prom Odyssey.
Yeah, like that's gonna happen. hey, doctor-man. I can take care of myself, heck- fire I am 17 years old! so after two days, I unwrapped the ankle and went on with my very exciting adolescent life, and by that, I mean, I continued to sprain my ankle at least once a year for 20 years. And I wonder why it's a little stiff now, hmmmmm