Johnny Cash and I are on the same page today:
I hurt myself.
My man smartly advised me to go to the emergency care center. I couldn't find anyone to take me, so I drove myself (stupid!). Thank God it was the other leg that needed to work the clutch!
Disheveled and exhausted from the pain, I sat in the waiting room alone, then through an x-ray, then through the nerve-jolting prodding of my leg.
No fracture, doc said, but bone is bruised, which takes just as long to heal. She recommended crutches so I stay off that leg as much as possible. She also through in some pain meds.
After the pharmacy, I got home and crashed. I started wallowing in self-pity, letting every other stress in my life surface. Hey, if you're going to cry, might as well get it all out at once, right?
On Facebook, an interesting comment came up from my old professor: "I'm sorry it took this to get you to slow down!"
Am I really that hard on myself? I didn't think so, but now, I'm not so sure.
Maybe I could use a slower pace every now and again.
There's just so much I want to do, and I get bored so easily.
But I need to relax and let things happen sometimes. Relinquish control.
There's also a lesson in how I hurt myself in the first place. If I hadn't have felt the need to go Hulk, I wouldn't have injured myself so badly. Maybe in life, too much future-sight makes you lose focus on what you're doing now, perhaps causing you to make mistakes that could put you behind in the long run. Maybe.
Ending on a lighter note: I took the next day off from work to recover. My darling and I had no food in the house so he whisked me into the car and off to the grocery store. But when we got there, he wouldn't let me get out of the car just yet. He said he'd be right back. I saw him walk across the parking lot, right up to a little old lady, who in turn, started giving him pointers on her transportation device. Before you know it, my love is heading my way on a motorized grocery cart.
"Your chariot, my dear!" He says.