Laid Up

I was walking yesterday morning, minding my own business, when I tripped on a wire and inflicted more long-term pain upon myself than I have experienced in my life.  There are some times when you know you've done something that is potentially serious and will require more intervention than mere first aid.  The burning pain at the base of my pelvis was my clue.  I had torn the hamstring in my left leg.  I "knew" it before I knew it.  I just lay there in the dirt for a good half-hour while I tried to figure out some way to drag myself into a chair, using my arms and one leg.  I knew I had to get to a hospital, but had no idea how I'd propel myself into the car, much less survive the ride, sitting, due to the nature and location of the nature of the injury, on the tear itself.  I felt like a big baby but had to face the fact I needed an ambulance.  I called 911, grateful for the system but apologetic at having to bother them with my ridiculous problem.

"Life is what happens when you're making other plans."  A rare day off when we were planning to take the boat out and set the first crab pots of the year, and when I had intended to buy a big pork shoulder to try out my never-used smoker, was instead taken up by an ambulance ride to the hospital in Elizabeth City (two firsts: the ambulance and the hospital visit for myself) and then seemingly endless waiting on a bed in the emergency room.  At the end of it all I was given confirmation that it was indeed a tear, some pain meds (motrin and percocet, both of which, despite their splendid reputations, are taking their sweet time to kick in), a pair of crutches, and instructions to contact an orthopedist first thing Monday, there being none on duty at the time in the hospital.

Straightening my left leg from anything but a completely prone position is still excruciating, though slightly improved (maybe a 9 instead of a 10 on a 1 to 10 pain scale) over yesterday.  The crutches are useless to me because they require me to keep my leg in the only relatively pain-free position I can find, bent at the knee. In a standing position, the remaining muscles in my thigh can't help with that under their own steam--they end up cramping from the strange position, adding to the pain.  For locomotion, then, I've taken to crawling around the house like a crab, face up, pulling myself along with my legs, then pushing the rest of my body forward with my arms, dragging my butt on the floor.  (The bamboo needed a good scrub anyway!)  In this manner I managed to push myself into the shower this morning and cleanse myself for the first time in two hot and dirty days, sitting on the shower floor.

Dear Steve, meanwhile, has been living out the "in sickness and in health" part of the traditional marriage vows.  It goes without saying this ordeal would have even more difficult without his patient assistance, waiting on me hand and foot.  He's also getting a little insight into the myriad small but vital maintenance chores I carry out in our life together every day, making the engine run smoothly.  Not that I needed reminding, but this experience drives home once again how grateful I am to have him in mt life.

Other news:  the lien situation drags on.  There was indeed a debt against this property, and it was our purchase of the property that erased it.  Unfortunately, it's that debt satisfaction that was never recorded.  Dealing with bank bureaucracies to get that done is taking forever.  There is still light somewhere at the end of the tunnel, progress is being made.  But it's glacial.

And now for a crawl to the great room, or maybe to the deck.