Let's Just Call This Post "Ow"

Currently Reading (for the Third Time) That Hideous Strength (Space Trilogy, Book Three) By C.S. Lewis see related

Well, I managed to go nearly twenty years without ever having broken a bone. There's still a possibility that I can hold on to that record.

Personally, I'm just going to cling to the "never had a cavity" distinction.

We still have to consult an orthopedist about the X-rays I had taken, but Wednesday may very well mark the first time I ever broke a bone. It happened almost inexplicably, though if I was ever going to get an inexplicable injury, I could already have told you which part of the body would be affected.

I suppose this entry needs to have a bit of the backstory filled in.

Two years ago, while I was in Garden Valley, Texas, in preparation for my second trip to Russia, we were learning this drama-thing. We would be doing a lot of personal evangelism on the mission trip, but lots of groups would probably have the opportunity, at some point, to put on some sort of show (the Americans were asked to participate in camp stuff in Russia, for example), so there were a few dramatic skits set to music that were being learned by all these huge groups. For some reason or another, on our team, I was cast as the Devil. As we were practicing, there comes a point where all my minions are cast out of the scene, and I have to follow. As we set it up, I was to lash out at Luke Grcich, the Jesus figure, who would catch me and force me to kneel down before casting me out. As I knelt, the knee that was still out in front of me popped, and when I tried to stand up, it wouldn't hold me.

After that, though, I got up pretty quickly, and I seemed fine, so after a quick break, we all got back to work. That night, it swelled up, and the nurse in residence there decided it had been hyperextended (when I called Mom, she laughed, saying "YOU got a sports-type injury?"). However, apparently, the swelling didn't go down on Ibuprofen, because on our first free day in St. Petersburg (the first time on the trip that I had worn shorts), our Project Director, Marcus Ripp, noticed a limp and my so-called "Popeye Leg." From the Kazan Cathedral, we took a little trip to the British-American Family Care Clinic, where a doctor decided that I had probably torn a muscle (a reasonable diagnosis, since once he got to looking at it, I noticed all the muscle was sort of dumped down the leg and there was a bulge down toward the ankle), but, to make sure it wasn't broken, we made a trip to a Russian hospital to use their X-ray machine. (As we went in, the doctor said - if you'll pardon the language - "Now, this isn't going to look like an American hospital, and it's not going to smell like an American hospital, but next time your friends complain about getting hurt, you can tell them to shut up because you've seen how shitty Russian hospitals are." In all honesty, I kind of preferred the smell of old building to the nasty smell typical of American hospitals.)

It wasn't broken then, so the diagnosis of having torn the muscle proved pretty accurate. It was pretty much fine by the time I got home (with the help of a good ol' Ace Bandage and a prescription for what was, apparently, a very very weak muscle relaxant). Twice since then, though, it's popped unexpectedly, causing me to lose my balance. Once over a year ago, when I was mowing the lawn while my dad was gone - turning around at the end of the row, it sort of gave out, so I limped into the garage, rested about five minutes, then resumed life normally. Nothing happened to the leg. Last September, headed out of my dorm to put some underwear in the washer, it popped and I had to collapse into the chair next to the door (it was rather conveniently placed), but I was able to get right up, and nothing happened to the leg. In fact, when I went to the Wellness Center in the PAC, I took particular care to make sure I worked out those muscles (when I worked out here in town with a trainer, the leg press was always one of my best exercises, so on the machine at the Wellness Center, I always feel really tough loading up that machine).

Yet it happened again, this time at work, as I crouched down to put a box under a shelf (we had just restocked the cooler, and the box had two bottles of yellow Gatorade in it, so it's not like there was any strain involved). Again, I got up, feeling pretty much fine, though it hurt a little more than the last time it happened to try to bend it all the way (you know that stretch where you grab your foot behind your back? It's good if you've got a torn muscle, but DON'T EVER try it if you splinter your tibia). It had also developed a pretty good bruise (which has gotten smaller but not completely gone away). I kept working through the day, since was had more than 500 people there that afternoon, but as they were leaving, apparently, it had swelled up and my boss had me do jobs that I could do sitting down, and when I left, it had seriously stiffened and I was limping really badly.

So, anyway, we ended up going to an "After Hours" clinic from one of the local hospitals the next night, where I had lots of fluid in the joint, and what looked in a side view of the X-rays to be a chunk of bone splintering off the top of my tibia. I've now got it in a splint/brace/ugly green thing that keeps the knee pretty much immobilized while we make an appointment with the orthopedist. The good news is that if I keep it from bending and twisting, it really doesn't hurt, and I can even put some weight on it (so I can even go back to work on Tuesday)! Thank goodness for the small miracles. I even have some prescription painkillers in case I need them, and I've skipped almost all the doses I could have taken. (I've had wisdom teeth taken out and something like six ingrown toenail removals, and I've never finished a bottle of prescription painkillers. Guess I don't need to load up the leg press to feel like a tough guy.)

So, anyway, I've been a little bit confined to home the past few days, having gotten back to a nickname I had left behind two years ago ("Gimpy"). Thankfully, I enjoy quiet time at home, so even with what may be a broken leg, I'm fairly happy. I'm still looking forward to the start of school, though spending days with my mom and dog are a great time to spend the meantime.

All in all, the problem with my leg has done nothing so much as make me think of Russia more, and make me want to do more short-term mission work. See, this is why I love my life. Even something as much of a pain as a broken leg can be kind of happy, too.

Oh, and last night, I managed to talk on Instant Messenger to one of my great friends from ISLAS for the first time in a while! I have to say I'm a little jealous - this last year, she saw Phantom of the Opera on Broadway (from the theatre's Box Five, no less), and this January, she's going to ITALY. Okay, so I'm a lot jealous. But I'm glad Alexandra is having such a cool time with her college experience, too. :-)

Oh, and Sarah McMenomy, another one of my ISLAS friends, is trying to promote her shortstoryblog, which presently has only three contributors (herself, me, and my friend Renee Roberson), so I thought I'd put a little plug up on this blog. Bloggers with a short story to tell - and this includes you, "Union Novelists" bloggers - might want to check this out.