Blame my parents. More specifically, blame my father. It's the fault of those physically challenged genes I got from his side of the family! No one on my mother's side of the family will ever be a professional athlete, but at least they're capable of walking through parking lots, walking up and down stairs, and can even play a pick-up game of softball without ending up in the emergency room. It's completely normal for my paternal relatives to end up twisting an ankle walking down a perfectly paved road wearing tennis shoes. We've been known to break or tear various bones & tendons doing stupid stuff like falling off a chair while playing choo-choo train (my uncle swears they took the corner too fast), tripping over the dog, running down a basketball court, diving into a swimming pool, jumping off a flatbed truck, jumping off a runaway forklift, or running over ourselves while driving an ATV (oops, guess you're not supposed to put your foot on the ground while taking the corner). Guess that's why the most competitive sport at our family reunions was a rousing game of Horseshoes. Don't get me wrong, we're strong. We've definitely got the farmer muscles going for us. Nope, no wimps on this side of the family. It's just that we're a rather accident prone & uncoordinated bunch and my father is King of them all. I think he's broken or torn more parts of his body than all of the rest of them combined. And, of course, these would be the genes that I inherited.
There is a purpose to this rant... really there is. You see, I'm trying to elicit a bit of sympathy so that you all don't laugh your asses off when I tell you about my latest accident. Usually I can get by without anyone knowing that I did something horribly uncoordinated like tripping over the dog and falling down the stairs (it's true), but this time I really managed to hurt myself good. I have managed to fracture my left wrist (a very tiny unsubstantial fracture) AND tear a ligament in said wrist. It's been two weeks & immobilizing it has not helped, so I've got an MRI scheduled for next week to see if I need surgery. It's all very dramatic until you hear HOW this injury occurred.
Ready.....
Drum roll please .....
I fell off of my shoes in the Lowe's parking lot. I really can't even say that I tripped 'cause there was nothing to trip over. I was just walking along in my three inch slip-on wedge heels, stepped on a bit of slightly uneven ground, and fell off of the shoes. I caught myself with my hands. The last time I pulled the fall in the parking lot maneuver (1998) I broke my left hand - it snapped nice and loud, a very obvious break. So, this time, (after I made sure no one saw me fall) I was quite relieved that nothing appeared broken and my thoughts went something like this, "Hallelujah! No one will ever know I was dorky enough to fall in a parking lot AGAIN!" I'm sure the universe had a good laugh over that one. So here I am, broken, in pain, embarrassed about how I got that way, and wishing that somehow I could trade some of these genes I inherited from my father in for genes from some star athlete. While I'm waiting for that to happen, I suppose I'll start over on those "walking through a parking lot" lessons.
