We’re home today, which we both agreed feels a little weird. We’ve been out on the boat every weekend, but Tuesday we’re doing the Duck Doge, and we wanted to spend today getting some things done around the house. Besides, I’m still recovering from last week:
This is eight days later. You should have seen the lump I had for the first four days, it was insane. I didn’t realize it was there until we got back to the house and I lifted up the leg of my pants to show Jason the bruise, and IT WAS OUT TO HERE. I looked up at the guys and began, well, I guess the best word is shrieking.
“Oh crap! My leg! Oh crap! Oh crap! Do you see that? What is that? What’s happening?! It’s like Alien! I need Sigourney Weaver! Is something going to burst out of there? What do we do?”
They looked at each other, and then back at me. Was I overreacting? Weird, because I never do that.
“Calm down,” Jason said. “It’s a goose egg.”
“Yeah,” Greg said. “Goose egg for sure. You’re not going to die. That’s going to hurt, though.”
“Goose eggs, yes, I’ve heard of them. I’ve never had a goose egg. It’s so ugly. Wow. Deep breath. Okay, so I just need to leave it alone?”
Jason opened the freezer. “Lay down. Put this ice pack on it. Don’t move for awhile.”
They got me set up on the couch with a pillow under my leg, and handed me the remote control. Once I realized it wasn’t going to get bigger or give birth to something evil, I relaxed. I’m sure in my EMT class they mentioned goose eggs, but that was seven years ago. Mostly what I remember now is how to recognize a stroke, and how to make an occlusive bandage for a punctured lung (I am all kinds of useful). I can’t recall if Mike went over goose eggs. He must have.
Everyone keeps asking me, “Oh my god, what did you DO?”
I was stupid on the boat.
If this is all that happens when you’re stupid on the boat, you’re lucky. One foot on the top companionway stair, one foot in the cockpit, straddling the bench, pulling laterally like an idiot on the main sheet, not looking down to realize I had coiled line under my right shoe. WHOOSH goes the coiled line, and out came my right foot from under me, and I crashed down onto the seat, gripping with my legs to avoid letting the boom swing into my husband or myself. The boom is heavy, so I gripped hard. Voila! Rainbow legs!
I do yoga in the mornings. Yesterday, in corpse pose, I heard Beth tiptoe into the room. I listened to her breathe, in and out, in and out, as she stood over me, my concerned little nurse. The floor creaked as she kneeled down.
“Whatcha doing, Boo?” I asked her, my eyes still closed.
“Mama, look at your leg,” she said. “It’s so purple! Does it still hurt?”
“Only if you poke it. So don’t poke it.”
“Okay,” she said. Instead, she sweetly stroked the outside of my left leg.
Purple, my favorite color! The bruises match the yoga mat, and the room I’m doing yoga in, for that matter. Today Greg is finishing painting my purple room. One of the treasures of this old house was a room upstairs with tall ceilings and a (very) small deck. It’s a quiet retreat from the rest of our noisy domain, and it will soon have a guest bed (Hi Megan!). It also has a reading chair, my desk and laptop, and a book shelf, and now, now, now it has purple walls!
I did the parts I could reach, and then Greg got the ladder out and did all the hard stuff. I love this guy. He is making me play electronica while he paints, so there was a price, but I’m willing to pay it. With the fibromyalgia comes the occasional mild balance problems, so he volunteered to be my man in the sky. The room is just gorgeous. Thank you Greg, and Sherwin-Williams.
I’m going to dig out my greens cookbook later and make greens. GREENS. If I write in a blog post that I’m going to do it, then I have to do it. My nutritionist says I have to eat greens. I know, I know, green smoothies, right? Except that several of the healthiest greens are goitrogenic when raw, and I need to treat my thyroid gently. So we’re going to start trying some cooked greens.
Speaking of greens – and in doing so, I’m sure the kids’ ears are burning (I bet Miles is saying to Beth right now, “Oh no, I have this sudden sinking feeling Mom is making something healthy for dinner….”) – they’re with Uncle Jason today at the Beacon Food Forest, getting their volunteer spirit on. They went last week, too, and had a great time working on getting the gardens together. Jason just texted me: “Your daughter in her first drum circle….”
Happy girl! With dandelions on her head!
Off to find my cookbook. I hope you all have a good weekend!