I twisted my knee last night. Yes, I said, my knee. Considering I wear heels roughly 350 days a year, one might think this sort of thing would happen often. But, one would be wrong because I am quite capable of normal walking functions with heels. It's without them that I become clumsy.
I sprained my ankle in high school while breaking the fall of a cheerleader that didn't quite keep her balance in the air. Since I was the spot, her lack of injury meant I did a stellar job. I was wearing sneakers then.
How exactly did I twist my knee last night? From getting up off the floor, of course. Let me elaborate...
We are slowly moving forward in this potty training two 3 year-old boys business. So, J was on one potty doing his thing. (Yay, J! He's been doing such a great job, especially at daycare. He even gets to go to the preschool room during the day!!) M was on the other toilet. I hear something that could have been nuggets of stinkiness falling into the water. I get a little - or maybe it was more than a little - excited about this possibility and ask him if he's just gone stinky in the potty. (Yes, I am that silly about it.) He gets excited back at me and declares he has, even glancing back into the hole. Naturally, I must leap up from my place on the floor, barefoot, to see this miracle. Yeah, well, I totally leapt up the wrong way because I knew before I even made it half way up to standing that my knee should not have moved the way it did. What makes this even better? There was not a damn thing in that toilet for me to marvel or squeal with glee about.
It wasn't too bad last night. I hobbled around, but it wasn't collapse on the floor in agony kind of pain. I could put some pressure on it; it was just sore.
This morning was a whole 'nother kind of pain. Big Dog likes to be immobile precisely where someone needs to be, whether that be in front of the refrigerator, the living room floor, or in the doorway between my bathroom and bedroom. This rarely bothers me. I think my heel-wearing habits have taught me to be cautious of where I place my feet, so I rarely just walk foot in front of foot haphazardly, not knowing exactly where my foot will land. So, I just lift my legs over him. Horror of all horrors, THE PAIN! Lifting the leg is not pleasing my injured knee. I'm pretty sure there were tears in my eyes. I spent today limping about. A pimpin' cane would have made this all so much better.
My mom brought over some ibuprofen with a bit of vicodin mixed in. Two was too much and yet, not enough. Despite having taken the medication with my dinner, I felt as though dinner might be making a reappearance shortly after. My head seemed very foggy and groggy. Yet, the knee still hurts very much; I just don't care quite as much. I care enough to not want to move it but not enough to cringe and wince and hyperventilate when I do. This should make for fun times at work tomorrow.