This is just a short snippet into my life. I’m not that old (I’m still adjusting to my 40s, thanks
very much) and I thankfully don’t have much in the way of health issues, but I do have a dicey
knee that flares up when we get pretty bad storms (it’s the change in air pressure they create…I
think…that makes it more achy than normal).
How did I get a bum knee? Well, I fell in a pool in Texas. When we lived there (I have another
little write up on where I’ve lived…it’s floating around here somewhere), we had a pool in the
backyard. Didn’t use it much because when it was pool season, the air temp was like 110º, so the
water was like…95º. Which, for Mrs. Richardson is AMAZING. She’s always cold. For me, it
was a giant, non-bubbly hot tub. Yuck. I’d rather take a cold shower. I mean seriously. I hate
being sweaty. And in that part of east Texas, you got plenty of humidity that would give Florida
a run for its money…
Anyway, one evening, I remember it clear as day, I was out doing my weekly chores around the
pool, cleaning the black widows out of the damn drain covers, topping off the water lost through
evaporation during the previous few days, and adding the chlorine and shock around the pool. I
was almost done, having survived the black widows (did I mention how much I absolutely
HATE $%#*ing bugs and spider?) and was finishing my walk around the pool sprinkling
chlorinated pixie dust into the water to keep it clear when my flip-flopped foot went down and
kept going. Right past the edge of the pool.
I remember the incident with crystal clarity, including the sickening sensation of falling
uncontrollably and knowing there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it, except to twist my
body in the air — in the split second I realized what was happening — and attempt to sitck the
landing with my other foot. I came close. I almost got my entire foot on teh side of the pool,
which, leaning back as I was, would have worked. Instead, the edge of my right foot slipped off
the edge and the entire length of my lower leg scraped against the concrete going down. When
the side of my knee impacted the edge, I opened my mouth to scream and got a mouthful of hot
water and fresh pixie dust.
The fire from my knee and leg was only matched by the sudden, intense heat from my shorts
pocket. Turns out, my phone did not like the hot pool water any more than I did. I shot to the
surface, sputtering and cursing and flopping around until I slapped my phone on the pool deck
and hauled my dumb ass out of the pink-tinted water. Yeah, I noticed that as I climbed out of the
deep end. I sliced open my leg like I used a mandolin as a knee pad and left a crimson trail in the
water and on the pool deck and the sidewalk back to the house.
Here’s where it’s funny. I get to the back door (it’s locked of course, because I came out of the
garage with the chemicals) and Mrs. Richardson was inside reading a book in the living room.
She hears me pounding on the door and comes to see what the stramash is about and finds me
soaking wet and looking miserable. Thinking I fell into the pool (which I did) she starts laughing
as she unlocks the door and lets me in. Only then did she see the blood and find me shaking (I
was super cold all of a sudden, though it was like body temperature air outside).
Long story short, the next day, I went to my doctor and after some initial tests, was sent for an X-
Ray…he wanted an MRI but the machine was evidently made by the same people who make
McDonald’s ice cream machines. When he got teh results back, he shook his head and said I
should have saved myself the trouble and just broken the knee. It would have healed faster. It
took the better part of that year to recover to the point that it didn’t make me wince to walk (I
had to use a cane for close to 2 months and hated every second of it…probably should have used
it longer but I just couldn’t take it). At the time, my day job was in retail management, so I was
on my feet like 12—14 hours every day. Ice packs and Advil were my dear, dear friends that
year.
Eventually the wound healed and I could walk and run and play with all the other reindeers. And
while Santa never called me to come guide is sleigh through the fog, whenever a storm rolls
through that drops the pressure (hurricanes and the quick, nasty storms that bring blizzards and
tornados) my knee stiffens up and I creak and grimace going up and down the stairs (making my
kids laugh…until I show them the scar on my leg and then two run screaming and the third goes
“coooool…”).