Starting the day with a bad buzz...

I had an early appointment with the doctor today, a follow up to last weeks diagnosis of  tendonitis (lateral epicondylitis) (aka: tennis elbow).
I have been a slug at home this week. Basically doing as little as possible to let my arm rest. I did catch the laundry up Tuesday. I forgot a load of jeans on the clothes line overnight, but did remember to bring them in before the rain started yesterday. However, they didn't get folded, but remained piled into a basket on the couch, where I grabbed a pair to put on after my shower this morning.
I took the jeans into the nice warm bathroom, and tossed them over the table by the heater while I showered.
I got dried off. I got my dainties on, and my shirt. I snagged up my now warmed pair of Levi jeans and pulled them on.
No laughing.
I was immediately aware that a fire had started on my inner thigh, and I was being stabbed by a needle. (Surely must be 12 gauge!) And... there is something other than myself squirming around in my jeans. The pain has me shrieking- screaming bloody murder! I came out of the jeans faster than I got into them. I was hopping around on one foot trying not to fall over as I shucked and screeched.
(Well, since you won't be able to help it, go ahead and laugh.)
I figured I was spider bitten. Until one large red wasp exited the jeans shortly after I did. Apparently she was none too thrilled at being shut up for more than 24 hours buried in a laundry basket. And then to be forced to share her confines with the likes of ME!
My screams brought Daniel... who beat a hasty retreat at the sight of a semi clothed matriarch still hopping and screaming and flailing about the bathroom. With his back to me, he asked what I needed. Antihistamine? Advil?
My request for the demise of the infernal insect was deferred until such a time as I obtained decency. I found another pair of clean jeans and inspected them carefully before donning them.
Daniel was trying to flick the wasp off the light fixture, rather than kill it outright. But a little flick of the flyswatter caused the entire globe to shatter to bits, and Waspy was way less than happy. Dan soon dispatched the wasp. I had to clean up glass from the floor before rushing on to my appointment.
(I have since found glass in the bath tub, on the counter, in the cat's box, in the carpet outside the bathroom door...)

I made it to my appointment. Doc was going to send me to some specialist, but I dissuaded him for the moment. From researching the injury, the best treatment is rest and TIME. He still sent me for lab work. I guess the docs are under a lot of pressure to check every Boomer aged adult for Hep-C.
I resigned as dishwasher at the Spoon. A repetitive motion injury is not going to heal if you don't stop the repetitive motion! I will try to remain as the casserole apprentice, but will have to see how much repetitive motion is involved there.

Meanwhile, the wasp sting's swelling has gone from a small, hard knot the size of a fingernail, to a more wide spread swollen spot across the soft tissue of the inner thigh. I don't seem to be having an allergic reaction to it at all. I wouldn't say this is an undue amount of swelling.
Well, that's all the buzz from here. Thanks for reading.

Another walk in the woods, and Thanking God!

 Original post: (https://cowmomba.blogspot.com/2018/03/falling-down.html

Today was a gorgeous day. I finally felt up to walking back through the woods. I wanted to SEE the place I fell and the rock that landed on me. I was so shaken at the time of the fall, all I wanted to do was get home.
I knew the rock was big, and that I had fallen a fair distance. I didn't want to exaggerate, so I was pretty conservative in the descriptions of the fall. Today I have pictures, and you can see I didn't exaggerate. I was actually quite conservative in my estimates.
It freaked Tom and I both out to see the site of the fall, and the rock. It could of been SO much worse!

 The bold red circle was where I had been poking around. The lower circled rock fell from the spot it is connected to with the thin red line. The picture below is the rock that fell with me, landing on my leg.

I have my hand on the ledge where I was standing when a portion of the ledge broke off.

And, here is the tiny fairy I had moved awhile back! Safe and sound.


God was REALLY watching over me!
Psalm 91:11

Falling Down

You know that moment of utter terror, when something goes so suddenly and terribly wrong? Yeah. Me too.
 Thursday afternoon about 4:00, I took myself on a stroll through the woods. The creek is dry again, and I got off the trail and followed the creek bed back to the cliff face. (I am on the bottom side of the cliff, not the top.) I was admiring how different the creek's path is after the recent rains.

 I got to the place where I keep a wee fairy statue tucked into an overhang of a shelf , like her own little cave. (The fairy is about the size of a golf ball.) She wasn't there, so I began poking carefully around (with a stick, lest I disturb nesting snakes or other critters). I didn't find her near the shelf, so I turned carefully to look over the ledge I was standing on... and the ledge snapped off.
I fell about three and a half or four feet, turning my left ankle. The broken off rock ledge landed on my inner (right) thigh. It was about the size of a five gallon bucket, cut in half from top to bottom. If it hadn't been adrenaline, I doubt I could of moved a rock that size. I shoved it off my leg, and assessed. I could stand on the ankle, and the leg supported my weight, so I hobbled my way back to the house. I was quite shaken up, though not SERIOUSLY hurt.
  All I could think of in the nano seconds of the fall was: I am alone back here. No cell phone. I am off the path. It is hours before anyone gets home. I didn't leave a note saying I was going to walk in the woods, and even if I had, I probably would of said I was going to walk our trails. Yikes.

I got up and went to work the next morning, fueled by large amounts of ibuprofen. I try to avoid taking any drugs, but sometimes they are necessary. By Friday night, some 24 hours later... I felt like I'd been hit by a truck. Or been trampled by a pod of hippopotumi. Or fallen off a cliff into a ravine...
During the night, my right wrist asserted itself in the mix of body parts screeching. I was convinced it was broken and I should go for Xrays in the morning. I finally fell back to sleep, and by the time I awakened Saturday, I could tell my wrist is NOT broken. It does, however feel much better in a brace, and I have one. So I am hobbling about on a cloudy Sunday morning, ankle braced, wrist braced, bruised... but feeling much better than yesterday.

I have developed an action plan for future walks. First of all, ALWAYS leave a note if I am leaving the yard. It should state my time of departure and be left in a prominent spot. I need to always carry a "daypack"/ fanny pack and not JUST my camera. The pack shall have water, and probably a small air horn. IF a cell phone is available, I will take it along. As a matter of fact, I may even have one that I can charge, and use if I need to call 911. Did you know your cell phone can be out of time/ data and is still supposed to be able to dial 911?

 Sam went for a walk back to the face of the cliff. He went a bit further, and found my wee fairy where I had moved it, to a more accessible and  sheltered place along the walls of the ravine. That had been my next destination once I had searched the first location. I sometimes move my gnomes and fairies to different locations along the trails, fun little things for people walking or riding the trails to perhaps discover. As soon as I am up to it, I am going back to where I fell to take a few pictures... from the  creek bed, not the wall!

I have been "feeling my age"... something I haven't done in years. Last time I acknowledged I am not as young as I used to be was when I sprained my arm trying to do a cartwheel a number of years ago.
This getting older business is for the birds!

More Pictures

Chris and Seneca's kidsBill- around 2002
Sam and Dan... with Becky's lost hat
Me and Connor Around 2002
My brother Ricky, REALLY!!!!
Granny and I, at her 90th birthday

Guess Who?

A picture of my Mom and Dad and me. (I'm the baby.)