It was a lazy day. I'd planned to go to a movie but got trapped by an I Love the 70s marathon and the warmth of my couch blankies. Also, the cat was sitting on me.
I had to go to the bathroom and I'd already held it as long as I could, so I shoved the cat off my chest and headed for the stairs. I'd taken two steps when my foot got caught in the leg of my pajamas.
I hurtled through the air with dangerous speed. There was nothing to grab onto, nothing to slow me down. There was only the ground. We were about to meet, and meet HARD.
I landed with a THUD on my knees. I passed out for a second, and when I came to I said a bad word. Yeah, THAT ONE.
Fortunately my right knee absorbed most of the impact. I say fortunately because it's already messed up; at least my left knee--which has its own (undiagnosed) problems--will last a couple more years. But my right knee's already been through one surgery. And it's been more or less numb since then anyway, so at least I didn't feel some of the pain.
After a few seconds of heartfelt expressions of hatred, I rolled over into what I call The Dead Cockroach Position.
Though it's not recognized by any yogi worth his salt, it's pretty much my default yoga pose. I assume it whenever my clumsiness deems it necessary; that is to say, more than any one human should be required to do so during her lifetime.
My knee's been swollen since 1999, so I can't tell if there's been a change. There are no bones breaking through my skin, so I am relieved on that point.
I'm worried, though, that there's no bruising. It was a hard hit; there should be some evidence of that beyond my awesome artistry and this limp that came out of nowhere.
I'm starting to wonder if I have a blood clot. And if that blood clot might somehow make its way to my brain or heart or lungs and kill me. I consulted my esteemed physicians, Drs. House, Grissom, and McSteamy, and they all assure me this could happen.
Therefore, in an effort to make sure my blood--and therefore my (presumed) blood clot--doesn't move AT ALL, I'm taking up a strict regimen of forced inactivity. I now have an excuse to lay on the couch all day! Doctors' orders!