Thursday, October 12, 2017

The Best Part

    There's this thing called "referred pain," and it's not the best part of anything. Yeah, it's the kneecap that's broken and has the scary incision over it, but swelling and displacement and, I don't know, perturbation of the humors makes other bits hurt. I refer to my manifestation as the shin splint from hell. Moving the leg up and down can trigger it. Pulling the brace up when it slips down the leg can trigger it. A therapist bending the knee ferociously can trigger it. Even stretching in bed can trigger it. And if you have a dream in which you are sitting against a wall, and someone tries to steal a valuable knife that's down by your side, and you kick him with the left leg, which in the dream is fine, does that ever trigger it. Boy howdy. First you wake up and think, "Ow. Bad idea." And then you think, "THE FRONT OF MY SHIN HAS SPLIT WIDE OPEN AND WHEN I TOUCH IT I'M GOING TO FEEL A BLOODY MESS." Only the leg feels perfectly solid and dry. It just hurts. Like the shin splint from hell. I mean, the incision was pretty bad the first couple of days, as though periodically filled with lighter fluid and set aflame, but that wore off. A mere bit of prickliness remains. Referred-pain killer shin splints linger on, gradually a little less groan-inducing.
How it feels
How it feels, II
       But then there's the friend who brings you an orchid plant and a couple copies of The Enquirer (yeah, I read 'em) and offers to get groceries, even though she has to go to two stores because inventory hasn't recovered from the hurricane. And another stops in with food, empties and reloads the dishwasher and takes the dog out to the yard to play fetch, a one-woman band of elves. There's the young dear who's busy with her own life who sets up an online bring-a-meal list and goes first. And here come the comfort foods: lasagna, meat loaf, shepherd's pie (we almost fought over the last serving), an unusual chicken stroganoff (for which I must have the recipe), homemade Cuban picadillo with rice and black beans and the thinnest, crispiest tostones ever, and lentil soup and beef and vegetables and brisket and pork roast and a chicken and tomato dish worthy of a French bistro. And breads and salads and fruit and chocolate chip cookies and bourbon-laced brownies. (Yes, sir, gotta love them Presbyterians.) Couple of restaurant gift cards too.
    I am strict about exclamation points. I edit them pitilessly from all church publications. The aforementioned organizer of meals knew she was taking a chance when she emailed that it was no problem to arrange help because our church people love us! She used exclamation points! I didn't mind a bit! I love them too. And that's the best part.

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