Looking for the Pot of Gold

This was the bright spot of the day, just a few minutes before I turned my ankle as I came down the steep hill at the end of our walk. The hill where we always say be careful, the hill where both of us watch our step, the hill. The hill where suddenly I am face down on the sidewalk. I do not fall. Ever. Except I did. And, no, I don’t know what happened. Twisted my ankle. I was up, and then I was down. Two workmen from across the street tried to help us, but we were more terrified of them than of my possible injuries. No, no, go away. Please go away. We were frightened of two people who tried to help me, and that almost makes me weep, even now as I’m writing this. I had some idea of walking the rest of the way home, but it only took a couple of steps to reject that idea. Mr S went to get the car, and I sat on the retaining wall at the side of the road. A man came out of his house across the way to see if I was all right, did I want to come in and sit down, was I okay. He wasn’t wearing a mask.  A woman stopped her car and rolled down the window to ask if I needed anything, was I okay. All that help was overwhelming. I was busy being so pissed off at myself, so angry that I’d created more problems for us, heaped more work on Mr S. Pretty soon our car came up the hill, I folded myself inside and was home in just a few minutes, hobbled up the stairs, and here I sit, doing the RestIceCompressionElevation (RICE) protocol, trying to figure out how to get around with the least amount of difficulty. I was going to show a photo of my big fat ankle, but it was too gruesome. In truth, I’m pretty shaken up. Not hurt so much as having the feeling that I came way too close to a speeding train. And really, here’s the rainbow ending: I wasn’t badly hurt, didn’t break anything, didn’t lose any more teeth, only got a scraped knee. Oh, and a big fat ankle.


Day Whatever. Beginning of Month Two.