Help, I’ve Fallen And I Can’t Get Up…Again

Help, I Fallen And I Can’t Get Up……Again


For reasons unknown to me, I seem to be more fumbly lately. Now don’t tell me fumbly isn’t a real word. If “doh” and “meh” can make it into the dictionary (They did recently. I’m not making this up) then fumbly can’t be far off. I wasn’t much of a fumbler prior to boarding an RV and coming to BC with Brian. Hmmmm, coincidence? Perhaps not.

The worst fall I had was when I fell INTO the boat, bruising my right leg something awful as well as most of my ribs on the left side, leaving me to sleep sitting up and hugging a pillow to my chest for weeks. So I try to watch my step when at the dock in Mission where our boat is, as the walkway down to the parking area is sloped, and last week I WAS watching until Dan (one of our dock neighbors) pulled up in his truck unexpectedly and I looked up, for just a second, and next thing I know I’m on the ground, (OUCH!) with a twisted left ankle and no skin left on my right knee.  While voicing my displeasure, I was suddenly surrounded by Brian, Dan and others from the harbor, all talking at once and not seeming quite sure what to do with me, each one looking to the other hoping someone else will do something so they won’t have to. Men, need I say more. After my other half helped me up the steps (ouch ouch) to a chair, I was presented with a first aid kit by Dave the harbor master, and set to work icing my ankle and bandaging my knee. After all my years in EMS I can do this kind of thing in my sleep, which at the time would have been a welcomed state.

Brian pipes up with “What the hell happened? One minute I’m walking along and all of a sudden I hear a sailor behind me”, obviously referring to my verbal dialogue at the time. After relating what happened, and seeing the look on Dan’s face, I assured him he wasn’t to blame, and then he assured me I wasn’t the first one to fall down that slope (some consolation I suppose) although his recollections included alcohol or some other form of mood enhancer, which also at the time I would have welcomed. Did I say OUCH!?

Anyway, Brian was supposed to help Ben (another dock neighbor) with one of his boats and I didn’t want him to have to put it off by taking me back to the campground, so I decided to tough it out in Mission for the rest of the day, and go to the pharmacy to pick up first aid supplies needed to replace the ones I had used from the kit. The knee of my favorite pants (go figure) was shredded and bloody, and as I didn’t want to draw inquisitive looks from other shoppers, I took scissors from the kit and made them into shorts on the spot. Rolled up the cuff a couple of times and TaDaaa, perfect shorts. I AM good. After making myself presentable, I eeeeased myself into the drivers seat and soon learned that driving a vehicle with a five speed standard transmission is NOT good for a sprained left ankle.

The rest of the afternoon was spent sitting on a bench at the harbor watching my ankle swell up, painkillers in my system, and chatting with a multitude of well wishers, until Brian was ready to go home, at which point HE nearly fell when his foot caught the decline on the same slope.  I felt so much better knowing it wasn’t just me, but at the same time happy he didn’t get hurt as I wouldn’t have any help at home, hehe. Once back home, and after ten minutes easing myself out of the car and hobbling toward the door of the RV,  I stopped dead in my feeble tracks at the steps leading into it. Although there are only three, it looked as daunting as thirty and I was willing to put off climbing them until the following Tuesday. Turns out that wasn’t to be an option as behind me I hear “Come on old lady” (It seems to be his favorite line :p) as he unceremoniously assisted my backside up and into the RV. Hmmmph!

The next challenge was relieving myself without sounding like a sailor, and I had put it off as long as possible. Could somebody please tell me the reasoning for the height of RV toilets (at least in older models) Cripes! It’s one thing that the bathroom is the size of school locker (I’m not complaining, I’m just saying) but the toilet is all of six inches off the floor.  I’ve seen kids training potty’s that are higher than RV toilets.  WHAT were they thinking when they came up with these things? 

“Hey Joe, I think these toilets should be as close to the floor as possible so that people can give their legs some exercise since they sit on their asses for hours when they drive”

“Sounds good to me Karl. You’re always thinking. AND we’ll save on material too.  That should make the boss happy. Hey, maybe we’ll get a bonus for using our ingenuity”

“Ya!……Uh…What’s ingenuity Joe?”

So even on a good day plunking down (don’t go there dear) and then hoisting up (or there either dear) is bad enough. But when the ankle on one leg and the knee on the other don’t want to participate without causing PAIN which leads to sailor talk, these two maneuvers are torturous. Arrrrg!

Well, eventually Brian Nightingale had me settled back on the sofa, ice pack on the ankle and painkiller in hand…wink. Ahhhhh! Oh oh. I just remembered that fluid in means fluid out…sigh. 


Medicated :)

Medicated 🙂

 Cheers! J   

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