If anyone has noticed, I’ve been out of touch for a while; about three weeks, I think.
I fell down a flight of stairs at my sister’s house while she was out with some of her friends. I cracked my head during the fall and that resulted in a gash in my right eyebrow and that resulted in a lot of blood, or so I’m told. The blow to the head knocked me out and gave me a “slight” concutssion. My sister came home to find me lying in a pool of blood; she immediately called 911 and I was taken to a hospital.
The long and short of it is that I fractured my femur and had to have surgery to repair the dern thing. The surgery went well and after two days in the hospital, I was transfered to a nursing/rehab facility, which is where I am and where I’ll stay for at least another two weeks and possibly longer.
I am posting this from a public computer; I will update as my situation changes.
I am reminded of a get-well card I got after surgery many years ago. It was passed around and signed by people at a meeting, and one guy wrote, “I don’t know you, but get well anyway.”
Well, I’ve been sponging off my sister ever since Marcie changed the locks on our house—my sister has a two story townhouse; I was upstairs and I guess I decided to make a quick trip downstairs. I don’t remember anything until I was waking up after surgery. I’ve been told I was a very unpleasant SOB until the anesthetic wore off.
A few, but they have learned not to let me get between them and the door so I haven’t really become well acquainted with them----but apparently they know as much about me as they want to.
It’s hard to chase girls when you have to use a damn walker to get around.
Just wondering how you took a header down the stairs. Whenever I’ve fallen downstairs it’s been ass first. I assume a neurologist will check you for faulty wiring?
I know a guy who plans to keep a bottle of spirits under his mattress in the home, so he can entertain the ladies. You gotta make 'em come to you.
Srsly, though, it’s about time things started gettting better for you! I’m sending you a box of good karma today.
Thanks for all the good wishes; I’ll be here for probably another three weeks and maybe more. I’m getting very impatient and short tempered. The damn therapy hurts and I still can’t put any weight on the right leg. Oh, well, this too shall pass.
On the homefront, it looks as if all the papers have been signed, notarized and filed with the court; my divorce from my Darling Marcie will be final on July 1. That’s the good news. It’s also the bad news. I thought I was over it but I’m not and maybe never will be.
