Just this pretty one. . .
It all started with that blasted 25th wedding anniversary . . . and an overnight away . . . from which I returned to find my darling pooch hobbling . . . which caused a last-minute trip to the vet and the unwelcome news that my favorite daughter had torn her ACL and needed surgery . . .which caused a giant rise in my anxiety meter but that has nothing to do with my junk-in-my-trunk story . . .the result of which was that the dog now has to be leash-walked. . .no more of this let-her-out-of-the-back-door-with-a-cup-of-coffee-in-hand stuff. . .which I did. . . faithfully . . . even on the morning when a nice frost had come and there was a significant schmear of slipperiness on the stairs from my back deck . . . but the dog didn't know this, you see, so it's not her fault really . . . but she went running and pulling full tilt to go and relieve herself from a night spent in her crate and BAM!!!!
Down went A Mom on Spin!
Sweet Jesus!
Now - having given birth to three daughters - I'm no stranger to pain. . .and we all know, that because of those daughters, I'm right-at-home in the Emergency Room. . .but how does one arrive at the ER and tell them you have a broken butt? And that a swelling roughly the size of the state of Connecticut is forming on it? And that there are no words to describe the ugliness of the colors emanating from it?
No, I believe one has to tough it out.
Alone.
In agony.
With one's derriere.
And only an ice pack and an occasional advil for delivery.
And a call to one's priest-boss
to explain why one's not coming to work. . .
OUCH!!!
OUCH!!!
