When you fall, you just have to get back up no matter how much your wrist and your ass hurt.
Okay, if you follow on Facebook and/or Instagram – and I strongly encourage that you do – you probably know what I’m talking about. If you don’t, let me clue you in.
After my last blog post w-a-y back on December 12 (where I shared how one of my rugs, barring director cuts, will be performing in the TV show Better Call Saul), I took a few weeks off to enjoy the holidays. Having a little time, I figured that I’d get my ice skates sharpened and perhaps, finally, after about four years off the ice (because the blades were much too dull and, frankly, dangerous to skate on), take a turn around the rink. Being from New England, I’ve done most of my skating on ponds, but out here in the desert, you find a rink. There are only two in the ABQ area.
Maybe I should’ve trusted that they were sharp enough. Tom was waiting for me, albeit in a comfy patch of sunlight on a couch in the entrance area. He can nap anywhere. All it would’ve taken was a couple of laps around the rink to know they were sharpened just fine. But, as in many things, I’m enthusiastic. So there were some back cross-overs and a few little hops. It had been four years, but I was doing pretty well. Till I wasn’t.
My sister-in-law texted me afterwards: Old people don’t skate. Oh, but 53-year olds do! And I got back up and skated some more. I was not going to let those other younger and less proficient skaters think that I’d hurt myself skating…more enthusiastically than they had. Besides falling is part of the game! Did you not observe all those “professional” folks eating ice during the National Figure Skating Championships last week? Then I fell again. On the same wrist. A couple more limpy turns around the rink, and I headed out to Tom and my shoes.
No, I did NOT tell him how much my wrist hurt. Truly, I figured that, given my arthritis, I could probably shake it off (like I do every morning). Besides, we had a party to go to that evening. Where much merriment was had; I headed to the urgent care and then the orthopedist early the next morning. Where they they gave me an early Christmas present, a nice, baby-blue cast.
Actually, they couldn’t tell if the wrist was broken but, because of the bone involved, for two weeks had to treat it as if it was. Lucky me. Here’s a short list of the things I do with my right hand/wrist/arm combo: write; shift my car; type; hook; crochet; brush my teeth, shave my legs; cut and chop my food… While I did find a way to hook, shift, and shave some, Tom valiantly took up my slack. What a great husband I have! He didn’t even complain about the crankiness, though he did snark a fair bit about my skating prowess and age. 😉
Friday, we found out that my scaphoid bone is NOT broken. Woohoo! It just hurts like hell with certain movements. But I’m being good as I settle back into writing a legible grocery list, crocheting a shawl, and hooking (!!!) a new project – more on that later, but I’ve included a pic. I’ll hold off on the ice skating till the wrist and my tailbone have fully healed. Tom threatens to bubble-wrap me.
Now that I’ve disclosed my own tale of stupidity and triumph – I did get up and skate on not once but twice – feel free to share yours here. But before you do that, head to your closet. Do you have any quality purses in there that you don’t use anymore? You know, the kind with brand names. I need them. Bad, but for a really good cause. I’ll tell you more about that next week. Now run to your closet and check…
PS: A BIG shout-out and thank you to Mary Jane Peabody of Mary Jane’s Rugs for including not just my rug and thoughts in her New Year’s post, but those of a few other hookers as well. If you haven’t seen the post yet and are in the mood for a little rug porn, head over to Mary Jane’s website. (But NOT Cathy Kelly; you aren’t allowed to see the page for a few weeks. Trust me. 🙂 )
