A brief history of clumsy.

On Wednesday night, as I tend to do, I stepped of the curb outside my apartment building to put something in my car. My foot slipped, I landed funny, and now I have a sprained ankle. As often as I do this (about once a year), you’d think that I’d remember to ice the damn thing afterwards. I did not.

Thursday was physical therapy for the hip, which I considered rescheduling on account of the ankle, but did not (for many reasons), choosing instead to explain what happened to my therapist. We worked around it.When she iced my hip, she also offered to ice my ankle and I graciously accepted. It was the best my ankle felt all day long (which meant I went out and then did too much after work and I iced it again when I got home).

The ankle and the hip? Both on the right side of my body. Which is also the shoulder that has what I like to call “knitter’s shoulder”, otherwise known as “Kara is doing to much stuff with her right arm”. It’s like I marked myself for disaster when I got the tattoo on my right foot. Perhaps if I get something on the left side, it’ll all even out & I won’t be as much of a walking disaster.

YIP 72.365 New Glasses aka "Hello Librarian"* Tonight as I write this, I’m recovering from having my biennial DFE (dilated fundus exam) to check and make sure my eyes are all healthy. They are fine. I get this done because I am so incredibly nearsighted that I’m at an increased risk of retinal detachment. The result of the drops used to make your pupils dilate is that your pupils are then dilated for several hours afterwards. I look a little like I’m wearing those blackout contact lenses. I am not. (The picture is from last time I had this done. I looked pretty much the same tonight.)

Back to the ankle problem. At dinner tonight, my dad said “We should have made you take up ice skating as a kid” in order to strengthen my ankles. Yes, that would have been great, actually. I wish they would have because (a) then I’d be able to ice skate way better than I can now, and (b) maybe I wouldn’t fall off the curb, trip over nothing, and generally be the clumsy person who hurts her ankle all the time. It’s almost always the right one, too. I’ve been doing this since I was in 6th grade. It wasn’t a yearly event until my mid-20s, though. You would think one might outgrow clumsy, but you would be thinking wrong.

I can’t wait until I can see normally again. The backlighting on this screen is killing my eyes. In the meantime, I shall attempt to knit while watching something completely random on Netflix. Yes.

 

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