It’s a loathsome phrase: “blogging will be light.” Go on. Just tell us you didn’t pay the electric bill and promise to return after you’ve hit up your brother-in-law for another utility deposit.
Around here, at least in certain quarters, blogging will be sparse and painful. On account of tripping over a wheelbarrow in the dark. One moment you’re vertical, walking toward the car, and then WHAM! you’re horizontal, lying in a large cold puddle next to the fig tree. Some unspecified period of disorientation passes. You feel the pulse of the rain and think vaguely of the Biblical observation that it falls on the just and the unjust at moment your awareness begins to take in the scent of roses nearby.
OK. Tactile sense of rain. Olfactory nerves intact: rose fragrance. Time for a body check: chins? Check. There, but bonging. Pain? Maybe a 3. Safe enough. Shoulder? Check. OK, just taking a cold soak in a puddle. Pain? No. Hip? Check. Padded and impervious. No pain there. Head? Resounding from the effect of cranium hitting ground. Pain? A 3, with some resonance.
That leaves only one problem: A wheelbarrow handle jammed firmly up and under the ribcage on the right side. Not such a great check here. Pain? Maybe a 5. The task, as it appears from ground level, is to maneuver the overturned and now wedged wheelbarrow in such a way that it won’t inflict further damage.
Fling it off? What if it doesn’t fling far enough? This is a wheelbarrow, not a frisbee.
Wait until someone notices my absence? That might be a while, dependent on whomever is hungry enough to look for dinner.
Slooowly maneuver the other handle in such a way that the whole thing shifts six inches and allows for a crawl out from under?
The last solution works, though the release of handle-jammed-under-ribs is probably akin to having an arrow removed. Since arrow-removal is not on my list of experiences, that’s just a guess.
Crawling out from under the wheelbarrow to the relative joy of wet grass, the main feeling is one of deep gratitude. Crawling means movement. Movement means life. Life goes on…
And so I get up off my knees the way a child does. Awkward, but it works. I bend over to… No, I start to bend over. No go. Ribcage/liver — whatever piece of damaged anatomy it is rebels at this movement. NO BENDING! Okaaay… Not so bad. Just don’t bend. Don’t bend that way…
So now, 24 hours later, blogging in a standing position is awkward. Blogging on my knees reminds me I need to pray more, but mainly it tells me this penance requires some medical attention.
We’re off to the doctor tomorrow, though not just for my pain. The Baron is getting noticeably jumpy at the sudden screams and moans when I bend that way.
It is fervently to be hoped that blogging will be under the influence of drugs next time we meet…
Dympna, sorry to hear of your fall. At least you tripped over some object in the dark. I recently tripped over my own feet going down the steps of a well-lit subway station, spraining my right arm so badly that I had to have a splint for a week. For two weeks, I was blogging lefthanded.
I hope that you recover soon.
By the way, I have a couple of recent posts relevant to the post here on Krishna-shoes vs. the Holy Qur’an.
Ooo. Waiting with bated breath for D on Drugs, (Demerol?) blogging. This should be good!
Oops . . . I meant Dymphna. I posted but lost my message the first time and so had to retype quickly while the words were still fresh and thus didn’t notice the typo.
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I’m sure there’s a chinese proverb about a wheelbarrow somewhere…
Yikes! Sorry to hear about your mishap! I hope all turns out well! Prayers are in order…
Dymphna–good wishes for a speedy recovery. Accidents are both painful and humbling, aren’t they?
On the same day you had your mishap, I had a very stupid scare at Home Depot. I was reaching for one of those little hand-weeding tools, and stepped on the end of a rake that was in the way. Suddenly, like a lever or vertical seesaw, the handle of the rake swung out in response to the pressure of my foot and bonged me, hard, right over the eye. There was a stunned minute of fear till the whole thing settled down into being just a bump.
I know it’s nothing like what happened to you, but I thought I’d offer it in solidarity with you. The common thread here seems to be garden tools. There must be a message there somewhere! Only Alfred Hitchcock could do it justice: “The Tools”?
Get better soon!
Ah, but neo, you have recourse: you can sue Home Depot! It’s the American way. The only person Dymphna can sue is me, who left the wheelbarrow where it was…
Unless, of course, she decides to sue the manufacturer of the wheelbarrow. That might work.
Ouch. Sorry to hear about the mishap, but at least your sense of humor wasn’t damaged. LOL at your title.
Best wishes for a speedy recovery.
Good luck getting pain meds from the doctor. Generally I find they only give them to patients who don’t really need them. (just being sarcastic).
Hope you feel better soon!
Thanks to everyone for their concern…I’m touched.
I’m also glad I was spared your various painful fates — I didn’t fall down the stairs, or step on a rake in public, and my sense of humor wasn’t damaged too badly.
It was fortunate that it happened at home, by myself in the dark, so I had time to contemplate my condition…and could still smell the roses blooming about two feet from my nose.
Sorry, no drug-induced blogging yet. I put off going to the doctor because (a)it’s a little better — my alarmed yells have decreased to a few irrepressible moans, and (b)we live in the middle of nowhere which would have necessitated getting up real early to make it to the rural clinic in time. The staff there takes turns for weekend on-call and I hate to go in unless it’s my doc’s turn. Not just bec. she knows me (we have a running argument about whether or not I’m as insane as I claim)…but also because she’s the best diagnostician I’ve ever met even if she does do office visits on roller skates. Sooo…I’ll tough it out till Monday.
BTW, Dr Sanity, she is good about pain meds…in fact, makes me take them sometimes. I remember the delicious reprieve of the morphine injections she gave me once while trying to figure out what was going on…
I don’t have a Chinese wheelbarrow proverb…yet. That will have to wait until after the vinho verde we’re having for dinner…however, lacking that, here is the best explanation for the possibilities for happiness I ever read. According to Isaak Dinesen, absolute happiness occurs
1)With the sudden cessation of pain(yeah, I’ll say).
2)When you possess an excess of energy and knowledge for the task at hand(probably one of the reasons that Dr. Sanity is often upbeat)
3)When you know utterly and surely you are doing the will of God (I will open the floor to discussions on that one).
Having thought about these three options for many years, I’ve yet to come up with a fourth.
Thanks for everyone’s comments.
I’m wid Brian–chemical enhancement should add a whole new texture and dimension to your blogging….will it blunt the sword? 😉
Yow! Cracked ribs aren’t much fun, though bruised ribs seem to hurt more, and for a longer time. Hope it works out ok!