I wake up, refreshed and certain I have dreamed my injury. But it’s not a dream and since I can neither bear weight nor bend my knee, I agree to go to the ER. My husband and I drive the kids to school and then go to the Clovis Community Hospital since it has a sport injury department.
Although the hospital is under major remodeling, registration is quick. The waiting room is empty and a nurse calls me almost right away. For the first time of my life, I’m not well and it is strange to see people opening doors when they see my wheelchair.
A set of X Rays confirms there is no fracture but damage to soft tissues. The nurse says that in a way a broken bone would be easier to heal yet I’m relieved. Soft tissues sound so much less dramatic. I don't know yet that I will soon change my mind. But for now, I am reassured when I leave with a brace on my left leg, a set of crutches and instructions to see my primary physician in five days. I also have to ice my knee and take Iboprufen for the swelling. In addition I get a prescription for Vicodin. I never take any medicine since I’m one of these lucky women who never have headaches or any body ache and have never swallowed any pain killer. My husband insists to fill the prescription. Just in case. I say no but we still get it. Little I know that the nasty stuff will come handy sooner than I think.
I walk to the car, limping and rewinding the day before, still hoping for the best. There is no way that such a stupid twist could damage a knee, right?
At home, I’m unable to do much and since I never sit down for more than a couple of hours before moving around, it feels unreal and boring too.
Fortunately I have Fall of the Giants, the latest Ken Follett, to read and it takes my mind away for a few hours.
