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Carol Perkins: The peril of going barefoot on the deck
Heeding the urgent call of buttercups blossoms, the author made a dangerous decision, drawn by the prospect of picking buttercups blooming next to the deck. Story is one all seniors should read - it can happen to anyone. But story ends in delightful cure for getting more calcium in diet.
The next earlier Carol Perkins column: The story of our fridges
By Carol Perkins
I had taken a break from the computer, poured myself a cup of coffee, and looked out the kitchen window at the buttercups blooming next to the deck. I debated whether or not to put on my shoes before going out to pick a few, preferring to go barefoot in the house rather than wear shoes or socks like "normal" people, Guy might say. My tennis shoes were inside the back door, but I told myself that putting them on would take more time than tiptoeing across the deck in my bare feet to pick the flowers, so I left them where they were. That might have been my biggest mistake.
In my usual haste, I flipped open the door and the minute I stepped out, in a split second and without warning, the "Welcome" mat slipped out from under me, tossing me into the air and back down again. I fell on my "bad" right knee, twisted my left leg behind me, and my head bounced against the wooden deck post. An extortionist would have been impressed. However, I was devastated.
How did this happen? I couldn't move. Finally, after the stars settle that were in front of me, I untwisted my left leg and extended my right one from the knee down and sat with both legs straight out on the damp deck. I could see the scrapes on both feet and felt the one on my elbow. My right wrist throbbed, so I must have tried to catch myself.
My body must have gone into shock because my hands were shaking and my insides trembling. I felt paralyzed and disgusted with myself. Why hadn't I been more careful? How many times have I done this?
Realizing I had to get up but also knowing I didn't have one good leg to stand on, I forced through the pain and eased myself up with the help of the same post where I left my head print. Once on both feet, I maneuvered my way into the house, fighting against the excoriating pain. By then, I knew I had done serious damage to the right leg, but I didn't know what.
When Guy came home, he wanted to go to the ER, but I would have none of that. "Nothing is broken or I couldn't walk at all." His comeback was, "I didn't know you'd been to medical school."
The pain was so bad that he searched through our medicine trying to find something for me to take. He came up with one pill left over from the dentist, which eased the pain until morning. The fact that this particular pill makes me feel as if something is crawling on me didn't matter. I wasn't suffering.
The next day I sought medical attention only to discover that I had fractured/cracked something near the fibular which will heal over time, but I am going to be extra careful not to fall on it! In the meantime, my leg feels "stove up" (some will know what that means). Guy brought out his dad's cane, but I am afraid I will get tripped up and fall over it. Coming home from the doctor I said, "I must have strong bones."
"You sure must since the only source of calcium you get is ice cream." We then headed straight for DQ. - Carol Perkins is a regular weekly columnist and can be heard regularly on the Susan & Carol Unscripted Show, FM 99.1 radio, Tuesdays at 10amCT.
This story was posted on 2018-03-07 04:23:38
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