Being uncoordinated can be fun!

Note: medical update is at bottom.

Central Park, New York City, Winter: The Skati...

Central Park, New York City, Winter: The Skating Pond, 1862 by Currier and Ives. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Reader Emmawolf asked, “I love the concept of a favorite injury. Is this because the story behind it is your favorite?”  That got me thinking about my favorite injuries…  These are in no particular order.

That hip thing I mentioned.  When I was growing up, I used to spend Christmas in Minneapolis with my all too active family.  If I didn’t know better, I would think they were actively trying to kill me as many things they took me to do were things they did all the time but I did rarely.  Case in point, cross country skiing.  I would do it when I visited them but they did it daily.  They would always want to do the hardest trails, when I asked about this Roger told me “at least this isn’t the MOST dangerous trail, just snow plow if you cannot stop.”  The last hill of the day had a “most difficult” sign and was just before the parking lot.  You cannot “snow plow” on ice or on a 45 degree angle.  I wiped out to avoid crashing into an SUV.

We also did a lot of ice skating on ponds.  They were great but being natural, they had divits in them and were not smooth at all.  When I was about ten, I was skating on a pond and must have hit one but I went flying and landed on my hip.  It hurt like crazy.  I was sure I was bleeding.  I played it off like I was fine (more embarrassed) and checked it when I got back to the house.  The result was a bruise that remained totally black for more than a year.  Years later, an xray would reveal that I had chipped my hip at some point.  That’s the only time I hurt it so I am going with it happened that day when I was ten.

Why is it a favorite?  First of all, I loved ice skating.  I love all the sports I played with my family.  I plan to teach a friend to play tennis for that very reason.  Secondly, I was a total Tom boy and relished all my scrapes and bruises. It made me feel all tough that I never sought out medical help for this.  And lastly, it reminds me of a time when I wasn’t the medical oddity that I have become.  The main reason is number 1.  I miss being that active.  It inspires me to work towards being that active again.

My goofy injuries are just silly.  I have a scar on my left knee that, combined with my knee surgery scars looks like :].  I got it in a crazy ping pong accident.  Yeah, you read that right.  A ping pong accident.  Additionally, I have soldered my fingers together (twice), been knocked unconscious in wood shop class, dislocated my shoulder body surfing (was too focused on losing my bathing suit top to care) and just last night walked into a door going to the bathroom in the middle of the night.  These make me laugh and remind me that life without whimsy is just not worth living.  Best part of these is that none really hurt because I was laughing so hard.  I was pretty good at shop class but whenever someone glued their fingers together, the teacher assumed it was me.  For the record, it was my high school lab partner, not me, who got her melted goggles stuck to her head.  I was the one who fell asleep in chem class and fell out of my desk but I never glued my goggles to my head.  At least not in high school.

You think you’re getting my bag?  Ok, you are but I am going to injure myself first!  My right index finger is crooked because it was broken when I was struggling with a mugger to keep my bag.  The strap broke and he took off.  I took off after him and caught him.  He threw some dirt at me (note: this means he had no weapon, I should have pounced).  Bitch, stop following me!  Me: But you have my bag!  He then hit me with something, probably my own bag and I woke up in the street (concussion number 6?).  I ran in the direction he had been going in to find a cop sitting in his car at the end of the street.  When I told him what happened he said, are you sure you were attacked?  PSA of this post, sarcasm does you no favors in this situation.  I responded, No, I normally walk around with my face covered in dirt.  It’s the latest fashion trend, straight from Paris and Milan  Seriously, he was not amused.

This reminds me that I do stand up for myself when I need to.  And that I am an idiot. Never chase someone who just mugged you.  There’s a time and place to be a hero, that isn’t it.

Medical update:  I was hoping  to have real news about the scans I had today but I don’t.  I had MRIs and MRAs (magnetic resonance angiogram) done of my brain today.  I hoped they would give me some information but they refused.  I have to wait to talk to my doctor next week.  Oh, and I know that headaches + seizures + vision problems + language issues can = brain cancer.  I also know that this is really, really, really rare.  I only mention that because of the number of times I have been asked, You don’t have a brain tumor do you?  I sure hope not!  I also really don’t think I do.  If there is anything on my brain that should not be there, I should know early next week and will post something as soon as do.

PS.  Thank you, social media.  I have a tendency to keep to myself when I am upset about something and recent events have only made me want to do that more.  I mean, who wants to be out and about while they are having seizures and trouble speaking?  Not me.  By opening up here, I have received some amazing support and it has inspired me to not give into my hermit instincts.  That has made a huge difference.  Thank you to everyone who has read my posts, responded to my tweets and generally made me feel a whole lot less alone and freaky.  It has meant more to me than I ever will be able to tell you.

One thought on “Being uncoordinated can be fun!

  1. Aunt Bonnie

    I chased a mugger also – actually two of them. Since I was on my bike and they were afoot, I did catch them, and I guessed right when they split up, but it ended with a fist to the forehead, several stitches in my eyebrow area, and a black eye for a week or two. Probably everyone at work assumed domestic violence. Given the numbers, it was pretty dumb to go after those two. Since then, purse or pack goes in the front basket of the bicycle, not behind me.

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