(photograph © Kiwidutch)
If ever there was someone who’s middle name should have been “klutz” … it’s moi.
Gymnastics as a child/teen (ligament damage and sprains galore) and snow skiing as an adult (extensive knee damage, broken bones) should have told me that my adventurous sporting days were numbered. Did I listen?
Nah… some years back I tried to resume another old hobby, Volleyball, we warmed up extensively, the match started, and a full 10 minutes into the game, I’m up in the air at the net and then down on the ground in a heap, my ankle turned over with a nice crunching sound and swelled up like a small melon in about 3 minutes flat, except it was a reddish blue looking melon and looking rather frightening.
Off to hospital, luckily nothing broken, but ligament damage, so all taped up and on crutches for weeks… and physio because it all went very stiff and unhappy in all that tape. Fast forward some months, foot had healed, and not wanting to quit so easily, I’d like to re-start Volleyball. Both ankles nicely protected with special sport support bandages made for the purpose. What could go wrong?
Well, a little way into the game, I was diving to try and block a spike shot coming mega fast over the net, the ball catches my thumb and next thing I know I’m without a thumb nail… yep.. ouch. First Aider’s were enough treatment that time, but the team were probably starting to guess my badly kept secret that I’m rather accident prone.
I gave up volleyball before they all got too nervous about me appearing on court a third time.
At the end of our trip to Maine USA last year, a friend of our hosts have us a ride on his jet ski… wheee hoo, now that’s fun! I’ve never done anything like this before… “Do I want to go faster? You betcha!” Hold on tight, ok.. now remember, I’ve never done this before, our life-jackets are wet from the spray so I slide my hands into the bands of friends life-jacket, it seemed like a good idea at the time in my ignorance. It definitely wasn’t good idea when several tight turns later I fall off, my left hand doesn’t some clean out of the life jacket and four fingers get bent backwards in the direction that Nature never intended. The local hospital staff were wonderful, even if the experience of getting my wedding and engagement rings cut off my very swollen ring finger was not.
I got a cast (above) because Dr’s said it was important not to inflict any more damage whilst things settled down and Himself and I had to get through several airports with baggage and tired kids to get us home from the States. Obviously they didn’t trust me to keep out of trouble. It was a wise precaution, some people really don’t look out for other passengers when bording or where they are flinging their things when aiming for the overhead lockers on planes. I got bashed not once but twice, the cast took the impact well.
(photograph © Kiwidutch)
It’s gotten to the stage that when they dug up the footpath in our street to repair a pipe, and left a trench with a plank over it for people to cross the trench, I wanted to cross the street to navigate around it. Himself asked ” where on earth are you going?” I repiled ” Schaatje (sweetie) there’s a plank, there’s a hole… if one person in the whole wide world can fall in that hole who do you think it would be?“ He laughed, said “Very good point, walk around!“
This weeks stupidity (left) is that I have washing hung out on our balcony washing-line. It’s been a fabulous morning, but in the early evening I hear heavy spats of rain… I’m wearing slippers that have zero traction in the wet (several near misses with kitchen spills taught me that) but it’s been unnaturally dry in The Netherlands of late, so I’ve completely forgotten this fact.
In my rush to rescue the laundry, I’m moving way too fast, slippers hit the wet balcony floor and whoaaaaa, in an ungainly splat, I skid feet first and hey! the solid balcony brick wall stops my slide rather nicely. Cr@p this hurts, ow ow ow….
Himself brings me a bucket of cold water and it hurts even more, elevation …. OK, just don’t move, don’t even breathe. I grit my teeth and focus hard so that I don’t say naughty words in front of the kids.
I try to go to bed, but even the lightest of blankets has me in tears. Hospital time… this time it’s broken toes on my right foot… wonderful. (Not)
They have decided to park me in a plaster cast for a week because apparently this helps a lot with the pain and I have buckets of that.
If all goes well then next week it can come off and I might get a light cast if needed.
Oh Goodie, my Old friends…. crutches. Yea ! … and my New best friend?… Tramadol.
And what sucks most of all? It only rained for 10 minutes. (sigh) Moral of this story? I’m mulling over the possibility that it’s possibly due to Kiwi’s like me that the Kiwi is a flightless bird.
Walk with me at your own risk.
