ATHENS —
Regular readers will remember back a few months ago when I wrote about getting a flat tire on Interstate 65.
Well, I’ve had another flat.
This time it wasn’t a tire; it was me. I fell flat a week ago Monday and have been limping ever since.
Weather permitting I walk the beautiful trail in the Elkmont Rural Village every morning. It is an exhilarating experience, especially now that the mornings have turned cool. I see deer, raccoons, squirrels and birds out welcoming in the day along with me.
I had recently ordered a good pair of walking shoes off the Internet and was ready for my daily commune with nature.
On that Monday morning, I had just nicely gotten into my walk when I saw a pine cone on the trail. I sometimes kick a cone along the trail, remembering sweeter times.
That morning I spied my cone, gave it a kick, skidded in the fine, crushed-run gravel with my right foot, turned my left ankle and hit the ground like the proverbial ton of bricks.
The fall hurt. After determining nothing was broken and that I could stand, I limped back to my car.
What I found remarkable was that several cars passed by me without stopping – the trail runs parallel to the road – including one motorist who couldn’t have helped seeing me fall.
This is the kind of thing one thinks about occurring in big, impersonal cities. It was just me and the critters. And probably the critters were doing the four-legged equivalent of nudging each other in the ribs and saying, “Geez, those two-legged folks sure are clumsy, aren’t they? Maybe they should get back to walking on all fours.”
As that Monday wore on, I began to hurt every place but my hair follicles. I bought a brace for my sprained ankle, and a heat wrap for my lower back. My right knee swelled up chubby and turned a bright shade of purple.
For the remainder of that week, anyone who ventured to ask the innocent question, “How are you?” got more than they bargained for. With very little provocation, I would whip up my pant leg and show them the increasingly ugly bruising on my right knee and describe my traumatic trail experience.
I was able to wring out a few “Bless Your hearts,” which have helped tremendously on my road to healing, thank you very much.
At this writing, the bruising has turned shades of yellow and green and is slowly creeping down my leg on its way to exiting out my toenails. My co-workers, being journalists, are on the cynical side and after a few perfunctory gasps and have moved on to bigger issues.
Anyone with a spare Bless Your Heart better get in here quick because the bruise is going fast. If that prospect lacks appeal, vow to stop the next time you see someone take a dive and ask, “You all right, ma’am?”
Karen Middleton
Another flat on the highway of life
- Karen Middleton
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