Typically I'm like Cousin Eddie, from Nat'l Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. Have y'all seen that movie? Evidently he has a plate in his head from some accident. I don't remember if it was because of the time he was kicked in the head by a mule or what. Wait. No. That's his cross eyed daughter who was kicked. The whole movie is full of beautiful one-liners. One which applies here is when he's talking about the plate in his head and he says (I quote loosely), "Every time she uses the microwave, I piss my pants and forget who I am for half an hour."
I feel like that every week, without the wetting my pants part. The week rolls along beautifully, then the weekend arrives. I work, I sleep, I work, I sleep. Come Monday I forget who I am and what transpired the week before. It's weird, but it works, so long as I have my pocket calendar to remind me of what I agreed to from week to week.
This weekend was a little different. Saturday went smoothly enough. Sunday morning I came home from work, took a short nap (intending to sleep all day), and woke to a Hunny in extreme pain. He was kneeling and trying to loosen something and popped his knee out of joint. I guess it's happened before, but he's always been able to pop it back into place with no problem. This time? Not so much.
I came out to find him sweating and tearing up. He wasn't able to rotate his knee left or right, or to fully extend his leg, without severe pain. I called the nurse on duty at work, who told us to to continue what we'd started, which was ice, ibuprofen, elevation and stay off of it. Any weight on it was killer painful. Then she said that if he was in that much pain, take him to an urgent care clinic.
I brought up the clinic idea and all of a sudden everything was fine. Ayup (I'm really liking that word - can you tell?). He was all, "Go to bed. Get some sleep. You have to work tonight. They won't tell me anything at the clinic that I'm not already doing."
Y'all know what I did, right? I showered and told him we were going to the clinic. In fact, I told him to bring a book so I could nap in the waiting room. And I'll bet you can guess what happened. He refused to go. I think I got about four hours of sleep. All night last night I was counting down the hours till I could go home and sleep. It was killer, staying awake last night.
What greets me when I arrived home at 7:30 AM? The Hunny, propped up in bed, saying, "Take me to the clinic." At this point I'm tired enough to want to take him to the river and drop him in the water. Can I just tell you that I have two boys, neither of which have ever been to the ER? This is ... wait, let me count ... at least the fourth time I've taken the Hunny to some kind of ER setting since we've been married, not counting the rupturing of two discs in his back and the removal of four wisdom teeth. I'm not complaining or anything, about not having to take the kids. I'm just sayin'. I can be done now.
Remind me sometime to tell you about taking him to the ER because of the Great Dane which attacked him. But not now.
We had a day planned. My brother, Lil' Bro, invited us for dinner and time in the pool. The kids were pretty psyched, and here I left them to take dad to the clinic. But Lil' Bro stepped in and saved the day, picking up the kids and taking them for the day. Thank you, Lil' Bro!
The verdict? I didn't sleep till about two this afternoon. Thanks for asking. Oh, and it seems the Hunny has a torn meniscus. The doc called an orthopedic surgeon he knows and made an appointment for Tuesday morning. Hunny will probably go into surgery sometime that day or the next. And the doc prescribed some really good drugs. He's a little loopy right now, trying very hard not to be grouchy, poor, sweet thing.
So I'm going to crack open the beer which has been waiting for me in the back of the fridge for the last week, then hit the sack. You'll excuse me if I don't catch up on some of your blogs for a day or two? I'll keep you updated on his progress, though. If you think to pray, please do?
Until I write again ...