After The Fall
02/06/16 15:45
Damn! It's been 4 days now since my tumble on Ocean Boulevard and things are just now starting to get back to normal. The front tire on my bicycle caught the lip of the pavement just right and down I went. It felt a little like getting body slammed on the pavement and needless to say I went down hard (mostly on my shoulder.) Nancy was riding being me but just far enough away so that she didn't actually see me fall. By the time she reached me there were other cars that had pulled over on an otherwise busy Memorial Day afternoon and people were coming out of their cars in an abundance of concern. No one likes to be the center of attention in a situation like that and I was no different. All I wanted to do was to stand on my own, assess my injuries, and go somewhere private to lick my wounds.
As I lifted my head off the pavement, and thank the baby jesus that I was wearing my helmet, I sat hunched looking left and right looking for things I had yet to feel. Things that were broken, things that were torn, things that were bleeding, and things that I just couldn't sense one way or another. I also knew that it was important to get up off the ground and stand on my feet if no other reason that to assure myself that my injuries were not serious and while the fall was a shock it was not a showstopper in any sense of the word. Your mind goes to interesting places when these kinds of things happen and my head was no different. I was just trying to stay in the game. Nancy rode home to get the car while I waited and we went to the Urgent Care center in Portsmouth for a quick review. Turns out I ended up with hairline cracks on two ribs and a couple of messy abrasions but that was it. That was enough. Enough to make it damn difficult to even get myself out of bed or have any semblance of comfort in the coming days. Five days later, mind you, I was back on my bike but with admittedly less confidence and the usual bluster necessary for safely navigating the roadways hereabouts. It's the cyclists who fail to throw caution to the wind that get themselves in trouble. I need to get over that.
I don't know why Nancy continues to insist on sharing her dreams with me. Not that I'm not interested in humoring her by listening to what she has to say. All too often there is simply no basis in reality for what she has to say and, generally speaking, I refuse to play along. It's a sing song version of "this is what's going through my head" and more often than not it is a Fellini-like recitation and far too much for me to follow much less digest and untangle. But that has never stopped her so I'm along for the ride for better or worse. Maybe that is what husbands do. Some better than others I suspect. Thankfully, it isn't every day because nobody remembers all of their dreams and truth be told the stories are not so long and involved that I have to set aside time to pay attention to what she has to tell me. Maybe I'm just jealous because I remember none of my dreams so I'll have to consider that the next time she wises to regale me with her stories of flight and fancy. And no, I can't for a moment help you interpret that puppy, I admonish her. It's above my pay grade and we'll leave it at that. I'm sorry. You were saying?
As I lifted my head off the pavement, and thank the baby jesus that I was wearing my helmet, I sat hunched looking left and right looking for things I had yet to feel. Things that were broken, things that were torn, things that were bleeding, and things that I just couldn't sense one way or another. I also knew that it was important to get up off the ground and stand on my feet if no other reason that to assure myself that my injuries were not serious and while the fall was a shock it was not a showstopper in any sense of the word. Your mind goes to interesting places when these kinds of things happen and my head was no different. I was just trying to stay in the game. Nancy rode home to get the car while I waited and we went to the Urgent Care center in Portsmouth for a quick review. Turns out I ended up with hairline cracks on two ribs and a couple of messy abrasions but that was it. That was enough. Enough to make it damn difficult to even get myself out of bed or have any semblance of comfort in the coming days. Five days later, mind you, I was back on my bike but with admittedly less confidence and the usual bluster necessary for safely navigating the roadways hereabouts. It's the cyclists who fail to throw caution to the wind that get themselves in trouble. I need to get over that.
I don't know why Nancy continues to insist on sharing her dreams with me. Not that I'm not interested in humoring her by listening to what she has to say. All too often there is simply no basis in reality for what she has to say and, generally speaking, I refuse to play along. It's a sing song version of "this is what's going through my head" and more often than not it is a Fellini-like recitation and far too much for me to follow much less digest and untangle. But that has never stopped her so I'm along for the ride for better or worse. Maybe that is what husbands do. Some better than others I suspect. Thankfully, it isn't every day because nobody remembers all of their dreams and truth be told the stories are not so long and involved that I have to set aside time to pay attention to what she has to tell me. Maybe I'm just jealous because I remember none of my dreams so I'll have to consider that the next time she wises to regale me with her stories of flight and fancy. And no, I can't for a moment help you interpret that puppy, I admonish her. It's above my pay grade and we'll leave it at that. I'm sorry. You were saying?