In my younger years, if I should fall, I would leap to my feet, as if on a piece of elastic, for fear anyone saw what had happened. Four days ago, I tripped on the final step of our stairs and sprawled across it, twisting on my way down. The next day, having twisted my knee and badly jarred my arthritic hip I could not put any weight on my leg and scared the life out of the dogs by shrieking in pain when I sat down. Lying down was a farce, involving Terry’s help and many strategically placed pillows. Unashamed by my apparent inability to cope with pain, I consumed as many strong painkillers as allowed. Four days on and I am still limping with difficulty and my knee chooses to give out at odd moments.
If I needed a salutary warning that I am not the limber woman of my youth, this was it. The pain will pass but I think the slight fear of a repeat event will stay much longer.
Without Terry taking charge and tending to my needs and all household chores, I would have been lost. I feel for all people who do not have a caring partner to help in times like this. My man deserves a medal.