Bah, Humbug – Pass the Tylenol!

A friend and I went to see the “Cleopatra” exhibit at the California Science Museum yesterday. It was a rainy morning, but the rain was breaking up and the clouds were beginning to thin and sunrays were peeking through in several places. We decided to take the Metro, our subway system here in Los Angeles, because – well because it’s convenient and inexpensive and green.

So as we got on the escalator to go down to the platform, my right leg shot straight out from under me and I went down hard with my left leg doubled under me, and my left foot and left knee were both hyperflexed. I guess it was fortunate that I was wearing mid-calf boots, because my ankle was protected somewhat. Fortunately, my friend and a good Samaritan picked me up as I, like Ralphie’s father in “A Christmas Story” kept up a continuous stream of obscenity, consisting almost entirely of the “Queen of the Cuss Words” – because, first of all, it hurt like hell – and, the bottom of the escalator was coming close and I did not want to get my sweater caught in the teeth and me turned into pasta.

Once I got up, I discovered that I was bleeding from two cuts on my left hand and that I had bent my favorite glasses (“You’ll shoot your eye out, kid!”), but I found that I was able to walk. Painfully, but I was still up on two legs.

We went ahead and visited Cleopatra at the museum; because of all the walking involved, we passed on the Space Shuttle.  As we walked, I found myself getting stiffer, and discovered a few more places that were starting to hurt.

This morning, I found myself barely able to walk; my ankle is swollen and dark with bruises. My left knee is very wobbly and somewhat swollen, and it also feels like I wrenched muscles in my left leg and in my right shoulder, evidently when I went down while hanging on to the handhold.

And so it is that I’m feeling very Scrooge-ish this Christmas morning – pre-visitation from the Spirits of Christmases Past, Present and Future:  Bah-freaking-humbug, pass the Tylenol. I suspect I’m going to have to wrap both my ankle and my knee with Ace bandages for the next day or so, and hope that there isn’t anything broken or torn – because I have no insurance and, unlike Mr. Scrooge, I can’t afford a trip to urgent care.

Maybe I’ve watched too much science fiction – you know, storylines where someone finds him- or herself in the wrong place in the time continuum, perhaps finding even that he or she is not supposed to even exist in the current time and place; so the universe treats them like white cells treat invading bacteria.

So, as silly as it sounds, it occurred to me yesterday that maybe the reason I’m having such an extreme run of bad luck is that I’m not supposed to be here; that somehow the gears slipped and I survived, when I wasn’t supposed to. And because I didn’t take the hint, well, the universe is ramping up cleanup operations.

And yes, you can definitely say that I’m feeling a bit sorry for myself this morning. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take some Tylenol and go back to bed.

Bah, humbug.


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