It only hurts when I laugh

You know how sometimes you’re just trying to organize your desktop on your computer and you get started going through pictures and things you’ve kept?   If the things I have saved on my desktop were in paper form they would fill a side by side refrigerator box.

This morning I started sifting through things and came upon a picture that took me back to August 20, 2010.  I haven’t memorized the date of every picture I have, but this one was “special”…..because it’s a picture of me being loaded into an ambulance.

That August day started out just great.   Larry and I had tickets for Phantom of the Opera in Cleveland; we were going with two other couples that we enjoyed.   We had plans for a nice dinner at The Star; right next door to the theatre…….what could possibly go wrong?

Parking was a snap, we got right into a lot and as long as we picked up the car by eleven thirty we were golden.   We walked the short distance to the restaurant, laughing and joking.   Dinner was great; we finished with a drink and then walked next door to enjoy the performance.

Phantom of the Opera is my favorite, I’ve seen it everywhere I could…..from the Pantages in Toronto to Broadway, Cleveland and a performance at the Renaissance Theatre here in Mansfield.   I have the sound track, the movie…..I have a pin that I can no longer locate and I would go see it again anywhere, anytime.  Suffice it to say, I am a fan.

So, here we are in Cleveland enjoying the performance in a lovely old theatre in Playhouse Square, the show is over and we’re leaving to get the car.   Then someone suggested dessert at The Star before we headed back to Mansfield.   We had heard the cast sometimes goes there after the performance, so we all trooped in for dessert and coffee. 

More conversation and more food after a lovely play, it just can’t get any better than that.   Since our friends had driven the six of us to Cleveland we all started to follow them out, but I decided to make a short stop in the ladies room before I left the restaurant.  

The restaurant was dimly lighted….I assume it’s what is considered “mood lighting”….and my mood was very good as I exited the ladies room and turned left down a long slate walkway to meet my husband as he stood waiting for me at the front door.   Next thing I knew I was doing an excruciating version of the splits on that very same slate floor.  I can’t say there was something on the floor because it was too dark to see anything….but here I am with my right leg hyper extended in front of me.   I had come down on the slate on my bent left knee and then on out into a painful version of the splits.   I might add here that until this particular evening I never even knew I could do the splits, a revelation I could just as easily have done without.

Trying to figure out exactly how my body was configured and how it came to be in this position, all I could do was wait for help to arrive.    Larry was two steps ahead of the restaurant manager and a server, then all our friends.   I was afraid to move; in fact it was out of the question.    It took a few seconds to decide just who should grab me and where and then what to do after that.  Everything was a blur of pain, but I was finally able to shift my legs to a position that allowed everyone to get me into a chair. 

My right leg was screaming, my left leg completely numb, and about that time the rescue squad showed up.  They put me on a gurney and took me into the back of the truck to check me out.   By now I was so completely embarrassed I just wanted to go home.  I had visions of my husband and friends spending the night in the emergency room in Cleveland while I was treated for some extreme leg and ego damage.

Eventually everyone agreed if nothing was broken I could go home and hit the nearest emergency room if necessary.    My right ham string was torn, my left knee swollen to twice its normal size, and there was an assortment of other bruises that wouldn’t come into full bloom until the next day or two had passed.  Just as painfully my pride was shattered beyond repair….it, too, would take some time to heal.   I just wanted to get out of there, and so it was that the nice young people gave me ice packs galore, towels to hold them in place, and wished me well as we headed home.

Two years later I still have trouble with the knee, but the ham string seems to have healed pretty well.  I have never again worn the shoes I had on that night just in case they were in any kind of conspiracy with the slate floor.  One of the employees who helped get me out of there that night said several people had fallen on that floor……I sure hope they get it replaced before Phantom comes back to Cleveland.

I ended up at my family doctor and then an orthopedic for some after care, so all in all things have healed pretty well.   I only wish I had seen a pride specialist, because I can still remember the embarrassment of being stretched out on that restaurant floor like a geriatric cheerleader.

            Well….they say write what you know.  I know I don’t really want to do that again.