Faw Down, Go Boom

My mother tells me that whenever I fell down as a little kid I would say that "I faw down, go boom." I did it big time yesterday.

You know how when you have a bad fall, everything seems to go into slow motion? I remember climbing up on the sink one time to fix the curtain at the top of our window. My foot slipped and I fell to the kitchen floor floor, but I remember as I was falling, assessing how my body was positioned, if I was likely to hit the kitchen counter, and what would happen if I hit the floor wrong. All in a matter of a split second.

That was kind of how it was yesterday. I had taken Munchkin out to the back yard to play with the other puppies (because he generally won't leave my side) and I sat down at the table on the concrete patio to read the paper.

I got up from the table and everything went wrong. Sometimes when I turn wrong my bad knee sends shooting pains and kind of gives out a little. When that happens. I automatically shift the weight to the other leg, but somehow that leg was tangled up in the leg of the chair and I started falling, in slow motion, wondering what would happen when I cracked my head on the concrete.

Walt, bless him, was there and caught my head before it bonked the concrete, but my body hit so hard that I peed all over the patio.

(Why do they tell you to wear clean underwear when you go out. If you get into an accident, your bladder releases whatever is in it. If you die, both your bladder and bowels give up their contents, so nobody knows if you had clean underwear when you left the house or not!)

I was immediately surrounded by five very worried dogs, which was lovely, but just what I didn't need as I tried to drag my pain-wracked body to an upright position. It was instantly apparent that I had wrenched something in my side. From just below my breasts to just below the waist, the muscles sent excruciating pain shoothing everywhere along my left side.

I hobbled into the house and changed my clothes (not easy when you are in pain!) and proceeded to figure out what I could do and couldn't do in my new pain-wracked state. I discovered I couldn't bend over to pick up anything. I was fixing chicken for dinner and had to wait until Walt came downstairs to get the bag of frozen chicken breasts out of the freezer for me. I could also put the pan into the oven, but it was much more comfortable to have him take them out for me.

I could pick Munchkin up, since he always raises up on his hind legs and paws at my leg, but I couldn't put him down unless I found a pile of pillows and then dropped him from a foot above the pile.

I sat in the recliner for awhile with ice on the affected area, but it was frustrating that after going through all the gyrations to get into a reasonably comfortable position, I would have to get right up again to get something I forgot or something else.

It was a no-computer night because I couldn't sit comfortably to type, so I sat and watched Idol and Dancing with the Stars and The Daily Show and finally decided it was time for sleep. But where?

The night before, in a desperate attempt for a good night's sleep, I took ALL the dogs up to the guest bedroom to sleep. Despite the stabbing pains that I get when I try to sleep in a bed, I thought maybe having room for everyone would make it worthwhile. It actually worked because I had all the puppies on one side of me, and the big dogs curled up along my backside, like the back of a couch. I considered doing that again, but I wasn't sure I could walk upstairs.

I tried the couch in the living room, but it was instantly clear that there was no way I could get to a reclining position, so I went back to the family room again and settled in on the recliner under puppies. I did wake up around 2 and had about an hour and a half awake, but eventually fell back asleep again.

Things were ever so slightly better in the morning. But the most difficult part was trying to deal with the puppies. It's hard to get comfortable with your lap being used as a playing field. I can't get food out of the dog food bin but I can lift the container and put it on the kitchen counter and get it that way.

I finally decided that I just wanted to reduce the number of pain-producing things in the house, so sadly wrote to Ashley and asked if she could find new homes for the puppies. Someone came to pick up the older puppies and it did not go well. They were both spooked and Scrappy bit one of the women trying to catch him. He also left poop all over the family room...literally scared the shit out of him. I finally called him to jump into my lap in the recliner, which he did, shrinking away from the people trying to catch him. I felt awful when I put a leash on him and helped drag him into the carrying crate. I do not feel good about sending them away, but when I tried to clean up those poop piles, I knew I had made the right decision.

There is still no new home for Munchkin and we'll see if I'm better enough tomorrow to keep him, but at the moment Ashley is still on the hunt for a new foster home for him.