Oh!  My!  God!  What else is there to say?  What a day you had!!  Hopefully
things are much better today!!!

Jean

((((Nann))))

Ouch!

Kelly C.

Hey nann,
Sorry you fell and suggest traumeel homeopathic remedy (you can get it
at any healthfood store or let me know and I'll drop ship you some).
Almost everyone can take it unless you are on blood thinners and i
don't believe you are.

That said, I wanted to be sympathetic but was too busy laughing.  You
need to send this into arthristis today.

best healing wishes and prayers

m

{{{Nann}}}

    Still and always being a Floridiot....why didn't you just throw
yourself into the snow with the one undamaged arm kept out? Seems it woulda
been easier, icing-wise and Mike mighta actually offered to help out some.
Tsk on him, fertrue.

    That said, do you know why you have balance issues? And if not...when
will ya know, Hon? Any chance of ya'll coming home?<hint, hint>

Warm (and Dry) Hugs from Rosie

oh nann, that was too funny--except for the part about you being hurt
and in pain. i bet we all could relate. i think you held it together
quite well.

diane
ps--watching the sopranos always does something to my language, too.

y'know, the wggfc (the wingless gladys good fairy club) should write a
jointly authored book and call it, "a lateral perspective of walking
surfaces", "i can fly, i can fly!  thud!", or maybe, "horizontal
insistance".   you did donnah proud!  you got me laughing and i know how
unfunny these kinds of falls can be.

thank goodness you didn't re-break your wrist!  that's scary stuff.  as for
mike's reaction--he saw you after you got yourself together again.  i'm sure
if he had seen what sweet puddin saw, his reaction would have been waaaaay
different.

(((((((((((((((((((nann)))))))))))))))  i don't envy how your poor battered
bod must be feeling today, sweetie.  i hope it heals up quickly for you.

kate
(you made me shudder, remembering  my close call fall right after the
violent windstorm we had in december.   i was unaware that storm blew down a
large aluminum traffic control sign in front of my house, right on my path
to my mailbox.  it was quickly covered by snow, made invisible, also made
more slippery than any ice i've ever slipped on.  i, too, put out my damaged
wrist hand to lessen the impact, but luckily my hand slid on the surface
like my feet did.  i only injured my dignity, when my klutziness was noticed
by two cars that stopped to help.)

so here's my best shot at describing the whole thing with a touch of humor.
Donnah could really have done justice to this, but I'll do what I can.

Wednesday morn starts off nicely - it's above zero (Farenheit) outside and
the wind is relatively calm.  Not bad.  Mike and I exchange endearing
Valentine's Day cards and little affectionate pats.  I join him for his
weekday morning prayer service down at the church.  On returning to the
house,  I decide to be helpful and read our gas meter for our church
treasurer who usually does it.  It makes more sense for me to do it as the
snow is about knee deep in that area and I have my snow boots right here
with
me.  So off I go, trudging through the snow.  I come back in with snow piled
around the tops of my boots, soaking into the knees of my jeans.  But I'm
feeling noble about then, patting myself on the back for being so helpful.

In the enclosed breezeway, which we use as our mudroom, I change from my
boots into some Birks.  Once in the house, I decide to kick off my sandals
to
get into my warm, cozy slippers.  After all, it's still only about 63 in the
house as our heater is quite slow to wake up.  I've kicked off these shoes
hundreds of times, but something goes awry this time.  One foot is down to
socks and I am kicking off the other shoe, when the world turns sideways.
One moment I'm thinking about emailing in the numbers, the next moment I'm
getting intimately acquainted with the carpet.  Now, in all honesty, I've
come to know this carpet quite well in the last 2.5 years.  I've vacuumed it
umpteen times, removed stains, rescued it from being swallowed up by cat
hair
- I really didn't need to get my nose down in it!

Well, despite strong protests from me, my left knee hits with a smash and a
clatter.  My right knee soon follows with a deep thud of its own.  Meanwhile
my right forearm foolishly thinks it could stop my fall on the edge of the
doorway between the kitchen and the dining room.  Wrong! another thud.  And
just to round things off nicely, I stopped the last little bit of this
flying
attempt with the wrist that has never been quite the same since I shattered
it 13 years ago in a bicycle accident.  What is it about this wrist getting
in the way of an imaginatively coregraphed fall?

Well, I would like to blame my language at this point on my recent exposure
to reruns of The Sopranos on A&E.  I fear however, that the reality is I
return to my misspent youth for a while there.  About now Puddin' is
wondering why "mom" is writhing on the floor, emitting sounds he hasn't
heard
before in our house.  He worriedly runs over and starts sniffing around to
find out if I'm dying.  I'm not actually dying, but am desperately trying to
find my least painful position for the next few minutes.  Move one way, hit
Puddin', try another angle - pain, shift around again and roll onto
Puddin'...straighten out the knee, but not all the way and please don't let
the wrist be broken again and just what is that furry feeling around my
butt.........

I tell Puddin' I need to ice NOW, but he insists on continuing to sniff me
rather than helpfully going to the freezer - even after I almost squash him
in a couple of roll-overs.

After a few minutes, the pain eases enough for me to take some action.  OK,
being a longtime citizen of Gimpdom, I have cold packs in the freezer
awaiting the call to rescue some joint, but how many?  Up on the legs,
straighten out the screamin' knees and dig through the freezer.  Ah-ha!
three cold packs, one for each knee and one for the wrist & forearm. But
where are the ace wraps for holding them on?  Oh yeah, still in the box from
the last move ---- top shelf in the bathroom, at the back, behind the toilet
paper.  Logical place for a gimp to keep the box of wraps and braces not in
use, right?  sigh...............

I pull down on the toilet paper, which of course rolls around the bathroom
floor.  Well, I'll worry about that later.  Hopefully Puddin' is out of his
morning play-with-everything-in-sight phase. Streeeeettttcccchhhhh up and
back to scoot out the box.  Damn!  (well, actually it was more of that
Sopranos language, but I'm cleaning things up a bit here!)  The box is
firmly
stuck to the painted shelf.  Painfully, I limp back to the kitchen for the
stepstool.  Puddin' watches me, his eyes asking, "what IS going on, Mommy?"
I growl at him.  He turns to look out the window.

I return to the bathroom with the stepstool.  Did I mention that my hands
aren't entirely warmed up for the day yet?  My reluctant fingers scrabble
determinedly at that box and finally it comes free, flying off the shelf and
narrowly missing my head on its way out of the cabinet.  Safely now on the
floor (the box that is, not me - knees don't like the idea of bending!), I
dig for the ace wraps which are, of course, at the bottom of the box.

Now, there is no way I can get the ice packs under my jeans or under the arm
of my sweatshirt.  In my life as a Floridian, the solution to this would
have
been easy.  But here I am in northern Michigan, in February, and did I
mention it was only up to 63 in the house?  So I drag myself to the bedroom
and sit down/lie down on the bed to get into loose fitting fleece pants and
a
warm top with loose sleeves.  My knees are protesting this bending, but I'm
not gonna risk falling again!  I limp back to the living room where I've
dropped the ice packs and the ace wraps from the box that tried to take out
my head.  Puddin', lying on the back of the couch, guarding the house
through
the living windows, inquires, "meow?"  I mew back rather unhappily and
piteously.  He watches curiously.

I array pillows at one end to prop up my knees and attach cold packs to them
with ace wraps.  Oh, the left one is bleeding now, but the ice should stop
that.  Besides, me bleeding on ace wraps is another time-honored tradition.
Now getting the ice on my right (dominant) wrist without upsetting the
strategically piled pillows and knees is another adventure.  All I'll say is
thank goodness we have a sturdy coffee table!  At last I lay back in comfort
on the couch at stare at the ceiling.  Gee, this is *really* boring!

I get up from the couch.  Have you tried recently to do this with both knees
and one wrist iced?  Let's just say that I am NOT even remotely graceful.  I
hobble over to the tape deck and start the next tape in the book I'm
currently listening to.  Hobble back to the couch, lie back down again.
Puddin' comes down from the couch back to see how I am and helpfully lies on
my costochodritis-tender ribcage.  Moaning - no Sopranos language this
time -
I shift him over.

Suddenly a realization stikes me!  Remember those slippers I was heading for
back at the beginning of this tale?  Well, they are still on the other side
of the room, where I kicked them off before going out earlier.  Meanwhile, I
have ice on both knees, the throw from the couch is helping to prop up those
knees rather than warming my body and my feet are exposed and getting very
cold!  Ok, no way I'll make it through this without slippers to keep my feet
from freezing. I drag myself up again, except this time I have to shift
Puddin' off myself in the process.  On second thought, maybe I was graceful
before - at least compared to this time!  Puddin' selfishly complains about
having his comfy nest disturbed.  I am NOT sympathetic!

I hobble to my slippers and brace myself against the wall as I slide my feet
into them as, of course, the ice packs won't let my knees bend tso I can
pull
them on with my hands.  Back to the couch again.  I lie down and get
comfortable with knees chilled and elevated, wrist chilled and elevated
against my leg and listening to my book.  Puddin' returns and stretches out
on one side of my body after I guide him AWAY from the tender ribs.  Not
bad,
now that I'm settled,  I can handle this for a while.

About now, Mike comes home from the office early.  On this lovely
Valentine's
morn, he walks into the house to find his wife stretched out on the couch
with ice packs and ace wraps everywhere.  Some spouses might flip out on
finding a loved one icing three separate areas of the body at one time, but
not Mike. Being a gimp's spouse, he interrupts my tape long enough to hear,
"I fell so I'm icing the joints I hit," then calmly heads off to do some
stuff on the computer.  He may just be getting too accustomed to this!

Oh, gee, about now I remember those 2 mugs of coffee I had for breakfast.
Actually, it would be more accurate to say my bladder reminds me of that
coffee.  Here I am, lying on the couch, iced up all  over, with coffee going
through my system.  I can't handle getting up again all wrapped up though,
so
I have to hang on.  At least concentrating on not peeing and listening to my
book distracts me from my feet (cold even in the slippers) and the painful
cold under the ice packs.  But geez, why wasn't this one of the mornings
when
I wait to have my second mug of coffee?

I ice myself through one full side of that tape.  I know 20 minutes is the
recommendation, but I also know there was no way I am getting into all of
these ice packs again soon!  Also there was that 10 minute or so delay in
getting the ice initially.  The icing is effective; there is very little
visible bruising or swelling.  The knot that *was* forming on my forearm
went
away with ice, but it and my wrist remain tender.  Both knees hurt like they
are quite bruised, but they look ok - except for the scrape on the left
knee.
How did carpet manage to scrape it through my jeans?

Oh, but I had stripped the bed and started a load of laundry before going
out
to read the meter.  Can you guess where they laundry room is?  Yup, in the
basement.  So, after icing, I drag myself up and down the stairs a few
times,
finishing up that laundry, taking the stairs without bending the left knee.
And a little bit at a time I manage to get clean sheets on the bed.  By
then,
all my leg muscles are starting to spasm from the "excitement".  I decide
I've had enough of this game - time for pain meds, a muscle relaxer and a
nice nap on the bed.

What do ya know?  Puddin' is sleeping at the head of my side of the bed.  I
figure I'll just slide him over and lie down next to him.  As I do this so
gently, being nice to the little one, my shirt gets uncomfortably twisted.
I
try to straighten that shirt and a familiar sensation comes over me - I am
falling.  Splat!  right on the floor between the bed and the wall.  Elbow of
beleagured right arm slams against the wall.  Great, this is getting to be a
habit.  I don't even bother to curse much this time.  A sigh suffices.

At least the bed is close to the wall and between the two I manage to get
up
without aggravating my knees TOO much.  By now, of course, Puddin' is quite
awake, peering curiously at me over the side of the bed.  I've kinda had it
with being considerate of him.  I scoot him across the bed and snuggle up
under my comfy fleece throw and fall asleep.  Next thing I know, I'm waking
up because Puddin' is asleep at my feet, keeping me from moving my legs!  On
the bright side, while stiff and sore, my muscles are calming down and it's
just a matter of time before the bumps and bruises heal up.

Oh, and that box of ace wraps and not-currently-in-use braces is now more
conveniently located on the floor of the hallway linen closet.  And the
toilet paper is back on the shelf.

Nann, would it not have been easier to become a "snow angel"
outside?  <g>

I didn't know you took writing lessons from Larry.

... Paper is always strongest at the perforations.

Nann,

oh ouch, that had to hurt and hurt.

But I do believe you made donnah proud. It was great, you did it with the
right amount of humor. I had to read it to Jim.

Hope you heal all your booboos and ouchies fast.