Last Tuesday night, while getting into bed, I somehow managed to ram my left knee into the edge of my bookshelf. I then fell over onto my bed with my face in the comforter, totally immobile, thinking that I’d never be able to move again. You probably know what it feels like to whack some bony joint in your body against a very hard and often sharp object. Granted, I was fortunate enough to be in my own home, inches from my bed, unlike the time Julia tripped up an escalator and then limped home in extreme pain, telling herself to act natural, only to get home and find that there was blood streaming down her left leg and pooling in her sandal. Not as such natural.
Then, the following morning, as I was walking to school, I slipped on (the only) icy patch on the sidewalk. I managed to catch myself before promptly falling completely on my bum a second and a half later. Needless to say, I dragged myself off of the ground, irrationally angry at ice all over the world and in substantial amounts of pain. Then I continued to walk to school, with an adopted gait not unlike that of the hunchbacked, peg-legged lovechild of John Wayne and Captain Hook. With scoliosis.
By the time I got to school, I thought I was going to need a bum transplant because I was certain that I would never be the same again. My tailbone would be ruined for life. I would never again be able to sit down with cringing or wanting to die. I was never going to dance again (somewhere, George Michael sings “guilty feet have got no rhythm”). That’s a total lie, though, because I danced that same day. Actually, I ran on and off of a stage a couple times, moving props around before dancing. As I sprinted offstage the first time, I realized that my ankle hurt as well as my left knee and entire bum.
Now, let me just take a minute to explain my many, many ankle problems to you. Basically, I’m defective. I was born with an extra piece of bone fused into my ankle joint (where it is definitely not supposed to be), so I can’t move my ankle side to side very well. It also means that I am in constant pain. Sometimes it doesn’t hurt too bad and I just ignore it, and sometimes it hurts when I sit down, which is both strange and irritating. In any case, I’ve come to terms with this, especially since I was living with in unbeknownst to me for the first sixteen years of my life. Whatever.
But not so whatever, I rolled my ankle sometime in January and then continued to do everything I normally do, ignoring it. Don’t ever do that. Because then I rolled it again, and again, and then once more after that. So now I’m just one entity of crippledness. It’s been a rough past couple days, albeit mostly because I can’t sit on a couch without wanting to cry.