Home » That's me » They’re mine, thank you.

They’re mine, thank you.

Well…I’ve landed in the ER. Finally, for the first time in five years, my wife is having to sit next to me and wait.

Before anyone freaks out, it’s my knee. I was chasing a shopping cart in the Wal Mart parking lot and something popped…and I could no longer put weight on it. No big deal…it hurts, don’t get me wrong but it’s not at all life threatening. There are people here that are in worse shape.

Pain is manageable, so manageable that I have refused pain shots. I sit here, full clarity with an ice pack, the Broncos and my wife.

When we got home and I realized I couldn’t walk, I cried…which freaked my wife out. Once the Daughter heard me, she jumped in…then the Boy. I’ve got the most excellent set of “human crutches” that anyone could have.

So I was ordered into a recliner while my army brought groceries in, got me ice packs, pillows and ibuprofen. I was told to sit on my hindquarters until they could figure out what to do with me. I felt four. But a loved four.

The daughter is handling the delivery of a new bed and dinner for the two of them…we are waiting in results. I wanna go home to my family.

The wife is keeping the mother and sister, the bestie, the LP, her bestie and Bossman updated. They have all offered love and prayers. Bossman called me stubborn…but that’s code, right?

So I will prolly go home with crutches and an immobilized knee. I’ll go to work, I’ll shuffle around and make Thanksgiving dinner. I’ll spend time with loved ones and exasperate them by not sitting down. It’s called tradition. Only this year, I’ll show off my crutch skills. God.help.us.

But this family of mine…genetic and chosen…I say this…I love you so…thank you for worrying and praying and talking with me.

I’m a tough ol’ broad…I got this.

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