A Wicked Sense of Humor

I'm sitting in bed, propped on pillows, surrounded by books, computer, iPad, coffee and pain pills.  My right leg is immobilized and I'm putting off going to the bathroom for as long as possible.    

This morning, as I was taking my usual early morning walk around the circle, I stepped on an acorn, my stupid shoe (Dansko, with unyielding soles) rolled sideways and I fell down, splat, on the rock hard pavement.  I knew as soon as I hit that my knee cap was broken, completely split in two.  I could feel the deep split through my skin and leggings.

And oh, the universe does have such a wicked sense of humor!  As I was walking, I was mentally composing this little poem:

Bedtime Prayer

There will surely come a time

When it's easier to die 

Than to straggle through the world

And traipse among the living

But please, Lord, not tonight

May I rise with morning light

To straggle on again

And traipse a litle more

Let me traipse among the living

I'm not ready for the ending


My distracted traipsing came to a painful and sudden end.  

When I fell, I was by myself.  I yelled and yelled for help, but no one heard me.  I'm not sure how, other than sheer force of will, I dragged myself to the top of our driveway where I was relieved to see that Walker's car was still parked next to the house.  Thank God he hadn't left yet!  He heard me yelling and came to my rescue.  

Even after Bob and I got home from our long morning at Park West Hospital, the universe was not yet through with me.   There was one more wickedly sly jab flashing on my telephone, a recorded message targeting the elderly, warning them of the dangers of falling with a sales pitch for one of those "I've Fallen and I Can't Get Up" gizmos you wear around your neck.

 I deleted that message.  Maybe I should not have.  

But I'll tell you this:  I won't ever walk alone again without taking a cell phone with me!  And I'm throwing those stupid Dansko shoes away!

I have a feeling I won't be doing much traipsing for a while.  Hell, I can't even drive.  What, oh what shall I do with my immobilized self?  I'm waiting for another message from the universe.

I have an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon tomorrow.  The emergency room doctor assured me that there was no recourse other than surgery.  

As always, I ask you to please share Dogwood Daughter with someone today.  Word of mouth is my only advertising.  Thanks!

Be Well and Good Luck, 

Martha Maria 

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