August 4, 2015

Active morning yesterday– another one clear and beautiful, but its very clarity and beauty decreed that I must water the gardens. Was going to the studio, but made a prior trip to Reems Creek Nursery to get, I thought, a hydrangea. On the way to the back lot I slipped on loose gravel on a slope, and when I came out of it I was in excruciating pain, and could not walk. Not even a step. I got standing, but couldn’t put an ounce of weight on my left leg. They brought me a chair, but I was afraid I couldn’t sit down and if I did I couldn’t get up. They called an ambulance, run by two nice kids. I told the kids that my need to go to the toilet must supercede the emergency room rubric, finally convincing them. Even hobbling to the toilet on the young man’s arm I realized things were already better than they had been at the nursery. The service at Mission was quick and efficient– might have been a slow day. The man in the next room was vomiting with a vehemence I wouldn’t have known the human body could endure. I knew nothing was broken. I could move my foot every which way, and the diagnoses was not a surprise. My knee is full of arthritis, and, as the doctor said, I “stepped on it in a way it didn’t like.” His next quip was, “that’s what you get for living so long.” The diagnosis made sense, and explained things back more than ten years, when I began having difficulty (sometimes) sitting in theater seats unless I could stretch my legs. Twice I have screamed with sudden, passing pain just stepping out of a car. It all made better sense, though I can’t say it was exactly a comfort. What I can’t understand is why something like that is a bother sometimes and at other times not. But, I’ll take the “not” times with alacrity. Phoned Harry to drive me home. He took care of me. Used to be an EMT as it turns out. Drove me to get my prescription filled. Kind and strong. He stayed with me until I was walking without hopping and screaming at every step. The last time across the grass he wouldn’t let me use the cane. At every step he was right. No problems during the night (I only took one of the prescribed painkillers) and this morning when I walk the pain is big and dull, but no longer sharp. I picture my knee bent correctly before I step each step, blaming hyperextension for the event. My truck is still at Reems Creek. Not sure whether I can drive. Should try a Starbucks run this morning to find out.

The One with the Beautiful Necklaces has won first place in the Chanticleer Review’s historical book contest, Xxth century division. They want me to come to Seattle for a conference and to honored. Must research this a little, to see if it is. . . something. I think I deserve. . . something.