“yes, yes, i think i’m fine.  i think i may have just rolled my ankle.  you can go back to your workout now, i’m sure i’m fine.”

[minutes go by]

“hey mom, you need to come get me RIGHT NOW.  i definitely sprained the crap out of my ankle or, perhaps, you know, severed off my entire foot….i don’t know if it’s broken, and troy’s too far away and i can’t get him on the phone right now.  i could possibly pass out from the pain.  thanks.”

“hey dear, i just tried to call you…oh, you’re talking to my mom on the other line?  my car?  i think someone needs to come get me now before we figure out the car situation.   okay.  yeah, i’m going to die now.  okay, love you, bye.”

“hi sir.  yes, i think you’re right…it seems to be much more serious than i initially thought.  you’ll go get someone on staff?  that’d be great.”

[more minutes go by, then i'm suddenly surrounded by seriously half of the ymca staff]

“i usually don’t go to this ymca [the north one] but i was up here running errands, so i thought i’d pop in.”

“well, i usually run on the treadmill and have for years, so i do know how one works.  no, i didn’t fall off the treadmill.  i dropped my ipod while i was running so i stepped on to the side rails to get it and then hopped down to pick it up.  during the hopping endeavor, i caught the right edge of my shoe on the carpet and did something to my ankle…”

“…inverted, yes thank you, that’s definitely the word for it — i inverted my ankle and then ended up kind of over-correcting and inverting the ankle a bit the other way.”

“yes, i’m quite talented!”

“yes, i’m sure a lot of people saw me since i was in the very front row of treadmills at the busiest time of day.  i sat there for awhile, nearly blacking out, and then turned my treadmill off and attempted to walk out of there.”

“a few people did come help me, including this nice gentleman who watched me hobble out of the exercise room while finishing his non-dramatic workout on the exercise bike.  he originally got some help, but…”

“well, i would have asked for help when the first people came around but, well, i thought it wasn’t as serious at the time, even though it hurt like hell, but then as i was sitting here in the hallway, i realized that i couldn’t walk on it and it was blowing up the size of a small planet.  i also was spacing out from the pain, which nearly made me vomit.”

“no, i didn’t actually vomit, so there’s no need for plastic gloves.”

“it definitely looks awesome.  pretty right?  it looks like i’m smuggling oranges in my socks.”

“no, i didn’t plan on driving out of here.  my mom is a nurse and she’s on her way.”

“she lives about 10 minutes away.”

“yes, she’s a nurse, so we’ll probably be headed to the hospital.”

“yes, i have used a treadmill before, i promise.”

“well, i’ve been sitting out here for about 15 minutes, because i was hoping another staff member at the Y would come by and i could ask for help, but they’ve all been strangely occupied.  i’m glad you are…all, wow, there’s seven of you around me now…i’m glad you are all here now to help.”

“hey look, you brought a wheelchair!”

“pain level?  what range are we talking here?”

“1-10…i’d say i’m at an 8…i know, i smile a lot and seem friendly.  it’s what i do in a crisis.”

“you can let her in, that’s my mom.”

“hey mom i…..(devolves into muffled crying and yelps of pain.  good times!)

[minutes later, at the hospital]

“my name is sara derose, my address is……..blah blah blah blah….”

“well, i didn’t actually fall, i more ‘hopped’ off a treadmill…”

“no, not when it was moving.”

“no, i did not FALL off the treadmill.”

“oh, you fell today too?  that sucks for you.  it must not have been too bad if you are walking around LIKE YOU ARE FINE.  and i didn’t fall.”

“fine, whatever, i FELL.”

“yes, i would like something for the pain.  do you have a hacksaw?  perhaps you could just lop of my leg underneath the knee.  vicodin?  i suppose that’s an adequate replacement.”

[several minutes, x-rays, patient wristbands later]

“well, i’m really glad it’s just a sprain too—–” [interrupted by nurse]

“oh, a grade-4 sprain?  on a scale of….?”

“oh, the scale only goes up to 4.  so that would mean mine’s the worst then right?…3-7 weeks recovery, and at least 1-2 weeks completely off of it.  that sounds fun.”

“yes, mom, i DO like to read…just not all day every day coupled with the fact that I can’t even really get to the bathroom myself.”

“yes, i DO know how to use a treadmill, nurse*.”

“yes, dear, you are correct: i am definitely the valedictorian of ankle sprains.”

*     *     *     *     *

it should be said that despite my sarcastic recounting, i was treated incredibly well by the entire ER nursing staff, and the doctor.  the admitting person was a little airheaded, but you know, whatevs.

for insight into the judge’s deliberations granting valedictorian status and awesome photos of my quasimodo-foot (because, seriously, my foot is NOT normally that size), continue on below:

ankle view side A.

notice the nice eggplant coloring.  the judges will score that higher for sure, as well as the fact that the swelling spans both side of the ankle — that’s talent.

ankle view side B.

while the coloring hasn’t fully developed, it does span beyond the ankle to travel up the leg.  while the coloring gets the ankle sprain about a B+, the sheer deformity and size of the swelling, the pain factor, and the spectacularly lame way that the injury occurred render the judge’s grade of the injury an A+.

valedictorian status, people.

knitting in biology 101 (via etsy)

“the gay, straight, trans ALIENS are meeting in the library this week during A lunch.”

aliens, people.

cue my jim halpert look.

we have a gay-straight ALLIANCE club at the school.  or, i should say, we used to before someone couldn’t pronounce their words and called them aliens over the announcements on accident.  just kidding.

job security, folks, job security.

true story.

despite being featured currently on network television both positively (glee) and humorously (the office), acapella groups will always be endearingly dorky, but dorky nonetheless.  and it’s not because they sound bad (they don’t) or because of the outfits (not always the lamest) or even because of the goofy looks on their faces while they snap their fingers and find their groovy beats (kind of cute, right?).

why, then?

THEIR NAMES.

don’t believe me?

check it out.

but how, HOW, can you not like this (or at least the few minutes i watched before i was so annoyed from childhood flashbacks of the nintendo taking over the television for the entire summer that i had to turn it off)?  i mean they are acting it out.  ACTING LIKE MARIO.  or luigi.  as adults.  not. on. halloween.  while singing the theme song.

okay, they win.

bawling vs. balling.

now.

bawling means to cry, usually with force and volume, because you are sad or watching titanic for the 16th time while pregnant eating doritos, or when something legitimately heart-wrenching occurs.  the dictionary uses the word “unrestrainedly” to describe the said event, which sounds pretty heavy.  balling (or “ballin’” as the Young People of Today like to say it) tends to refer to a myriad of mostly non-related things:

balling literally means to be rolling something into a ball, as in “he was balling his test in his hands”.

ballin’ refers to either the game of basketball, or that someone is living an affluent lifestyle/being ‘the man’, as in “we be ballin’!”(thank you urban dictionary and too much time watching mtv).

so you can see why someone saying “i was balling at this lifetime channel movie” is both wrong and really, really amusing.  just trying to make you all look smarter, people

go forth with expanded knowledge, my friends, and hopefully nothing to bawl at.

after careful consideration, the recipe had been identified as:

• equal parts old carpet and basement mustiness ala old books.
• sprinkle with a bit of old cat urine, cleaned up, but lingering just a bit.
• mix in gallons of rain for an essence of humidity/wet dog.

yes, we shouted.  that must be it.
let’s replace the carpet, we said.
and we did, with cream colored tile that looks stunning.
let’s air out the basement with fans in the windows, we added.
helped some.
but wait…something is still lingering.  i can smell it near the head of my bed, when trying to sleep.
ugh.
we installed an atomizer with thieves oil, a pumpkin-pie smelling oil that has natural antibiotic properties.

now i have thanksgiving/funk smell.
booooo.

weeks pass.

until today.

what’s the last part of the recipe for the funky basement smell, you ask?

oh yes, the last ingredient discovered today: a mouse, dead FOR MONTHS, embedded in old boxes in the crawl space; its smell permeating through the walls.

yesssss, that’s it.

ick.

- 1-877-DO-FRUIT, the number for a fruit bouquet company advertised on tv.

- introduction to a presentation during lunch at a teaching conference (during lunch, because we don’t deserve to have a break during our 8 hour days!): “are you guys hungry? because i brought my appetite for KNOWLEDGE!” no. you. didn’t.

- meal list for one day (hypothetical, of course, as i would NEVER eat this): chocolate doughnuts, goldfish crackers, iced tea, peach, cereal, sour candy.  what am i, 8?

so, i’m going to tell you the story of how i came to look like i got in a barfight, and why i forget things now and have to be santa in july – making my lists, and checking them more than twice.  this is going to be long, so feel free to just look at the pictures and cringe/recoil.  and then say nice things to me

when summer began, i had the bright idea that this summer i would begin to learn how to long board.  a long board (maybe longboard, if you are into that brevity thing) is just a skateboard that has different dimensions: it’s longer (obvs), and has larger wheels.  some argue this makes it easier to navigate.  all i know is that after years of skateboard envy and a very unsuccessful stint in learning (or not learning, in my case) how to snowboard, my desire to want to learn was at an all time high.  i was jealous.  i didn’t want to do tricks, i didn’t want to go fast, i just wanted to get from point A to B in this alternate form of excellent transportation.

i promptly announced this to the boy who decided that this was a sound endeavor, and that he, too, would learn.

good times.

our friend garrett, a long time longboarder, happened to have a very old board in his car that had been drafted into service as a furniture dolly.  he graciously lent it to us, and we freed the board of its unfortunate servitude in search of smoother pavement and a return to its true calling.

sounds grand, doesn’t it?

we were suprised to find that we took to it quicker than we had imagined.  we took it to a smooth parking lot near our church, turned up the music, and rolled around.

indeed.  it was lovely fun.

flash foward to last week, when i arrived at the boy’s house monday evening and we decided that we should board around a bit in before we ate dinner.  i was wearing flip-flops, so we walked up a block to my brother’s house and stole borrowed some shoes from my niece hayley who was napping there.  now, i had wanted to ride on the mostly flat road in front of the boy’s house, but in order to get there, we had to walk back down the block between my brother’s and the boy’s houses.  this road, it should be said, is also not steep, but it does have a downhill slope.  it also is much rougher than the pavement we had been riding on.  it didn’t look bad, so i decided to ride the ONE BLOCK to where we wanted to board around.

one measly little block.  oy.  what is that saying about the majority of accidents happening within 1 mile of your house?

anyway.  i hop on, going fairly straight.  i turned a little to my left, but generally was going straight because the rough road and the somewhat loose trucks on the board were making it a little wobbly = hard to maneuver and stay upright.

as the road got a little steeper, and i started going wobblier and faster, i decided that this would be an opportune time to divest myself of the board and regroup.  i was approaching an intersection full of holes and cracks, and did not want to crash in such an area.  being that the only way we knew how to stop was to jump off (which had worked successfully up until now), i made a quick decision to hop off.  girl genius, i am.

i should say that from start to finish, this entire scenario was about 20 seconds.

as soon as my feet meet the pavement upon hopping off the board, i quickly realized that i was going a bit too fast to simply hop off.  i start putting one foot in front of the other, hoping i can keep up running and slow myself down.

yeah, that didn’t work.

after a few steps, i fall on my left shoulder and right wrist.

and then…nothing.

totally blacked out for the next few minutes.

i woke up to a very fuzzy vision of the sky, the boy’s face on his phone saying something about our location, and two strangers staring at me.

the boy later tells me that he watched me fall, and it didn’t look too bad, so he just kept walking behind me (he was up the block watching me ride).  but then, i didn’t move or get up.  so he sprinted to where i was and asked me if i was okay.  my eyes were open, with a huge knot on my forehead the size of a ringbox, but i wasn’t saying anything and my eyes were rolling back in my head.

he freaked.  and by freaked, i mean he calmly took control of the situation and called 911 and stopped thinking about me being brain damaged for the remainder of my life.

so, when i woke up and realized the boy was calling an ambulance in my delirious state, i promptly said what anyone else would say: “i can’t afford an ambulance; i don’t have insurance.”  i am nothing if not pragmatic in traumatic situations

so the ambulance came quickly, checked me out, and we rode to the hospital.  once i was safely under the EMT’s care, the boy then became woozy and felt sick, having not eaten dinner and also witnessed me become unconscious with an orange under my scalp.  the EMT put an IV in, asked me a bunch of questions and told us that i had a hematoma, one of the largest they’ve ever seen, and i needed a CAT scan.  my vision had that blurry-edged feel that looks so great in photographs, but notsomuch in real life.  i also became really nauseated.

so we hang in the ER: the boy, me, and our longboard.  they give me painkillers, do a CT scan, it looks all clear; i fill out paperwork and we wait to get discharged.  all told, about 1.5 hours in the ER – the least time i’ve ever spent in one visit.  my parents were called and they picked us up from the ER.   the diagnosis was a good-sized concussion, sprains to my wrist (and neck too, although i didn’t really feel pain in my neck at the time), and abrasions on my arm and forehead.  weeks of recovery, and a large hospital bill.  good times.

i was feeling alright.  sore, beat-up, and with a fairly pounding headache, but altogether in good spirits.  apparently i was making sarcastic comments in the ER, as is my modus operandi for serious situations.  it makes me feel more normal.

this is what that first night looked like:

see?  i wasn’t worried, this would be fine.  swollen, sure, but otherwise happy.  the boy filled my prescriptions, got me in bed, and stayed in the guest room so he could watch me during the night and wake me up to make sure i was okay.  because that’s just how he rolls, in all his dreaminess.

i had no idea what i was dealing with.

the next three days ranged from painful to excessively painful, like, i would pay someone to cut my head off from the rest of my body.   i was up all night monday and wednesday night, and i went to the chiropractor on wednesday.  by thursday morning i was in such pain i had to see the doctor to get something to alleviate the pain from my neck, which was, at this point, immobile. they prescribed muscle relaxers, and i almost made out with the nurse right then and there.  seriously, muscle relaxers and ibuprofen were my dream cocktail, and i spent the weekend in dreamy haze, sleeping my pain away and trying to do productive things like, say, shower and talk coherently.  this is what wednesday/thursday looked like:

yep, that’s a swollen shut black eye and swollen head.   beautiful, no?

but now it’s monday, and i am finally feeling better.  and better means that i only take pain medication once a day, have more range of motion in my neck, and feel pretty spacey most of the time.  the temporal lobe handles focus and critical thinking, so a blow to that area means that i get dizzy often (even just sitting down), can only concentrate on writing or reading for about 15 minutes at a time, and get headaches from too much stimulation (tv, computer, people talking), etc.  according to my doctor, it can take a few months for this to fully go away.  this is great news, being that i will be student teaching while experiencing a daily hangover feeling this fall.  PARTY!  this also allows me to make very inappropriate domestic abuse comments when i go places with the boy so that he gets dirty looks.

just kidding.

but, i am thankful that it wasn’t more serious – brain surgery or death, like natasha richardson.  i am taking a few online classes, but have managed to not get behind.  i don’t have any huge pressing engagements right now, so i was able to take the entire week last week to recover without much worry.  although expensive, i will be able to (slowly) pay the bills, my parents have been cooking for me, and the boy has been nothing short of amazing in taking care of me.  get this: he even drives slower and more carefully when i’m in the car so as to not make any sudden moves that would make my head hurt.

seriously.

so now i just have to slowly make my way back to the land of the living.  i drove to school today ( i can only handle very short and straight distances), and was able to work for about 2 hours, and get a bunch of administrative things done that i needed to.  and then i took a good long nap because i was exhausted.  that’s what my life will be for awhile: many lists (as to not forget things), many breaks, taking things slow and putting off cutting my long bangs that currently cover up most of my black eye.

i feel the need to apologize to people for my face, or wear sunglasses indoors.  ironically, i had just told the boy the adage that there are only two kinds of people who wear sunglasses indoors: blind people and assholes.

and, apparently, head injury patients.

it hasn’t put me off longboarding, actually, i’m anxious to ride around again, but on FLAT roads with very smooth pavement.

the boy has already tightened the bolts on the board.

so, that’s the story, folks, with the much inquired about photos.

i’m sure the people of vancouver won’t care if i look like a hoodlum when i fly there next week, right?

fin.  the end.

- pupperoni (dog treat)

- vanguartists (name of the artist collective at church)

- mommywood (title of tori spelling’s 2nd book)

- 4th of july themed clothes at old navy, worn by middle-aged women and their husbands.

- TG Fabulicious (clothing line launched by one of the real housewives of new jersey)

- slashers (not, you know, stars of violent films, but the proliferation of model/actress/personality/blogger coming out with their own clothing line/perfume/kid’s products/books/theme parks).

* * * *

we are currently in our faux-blizzard, which we prefer to endure on the couch after going out to get some hot chocolate. the store actually had no hot chocolate (what the heck? in colorado?) so instead we got chocolate chip cookies to go with english breakfast tea (with milk & sugar) that the boy just brought me.

and if i hadn’t caught a ride with my sister down to his house, he would have come and gotten me just so i could spend the blizzard with him. pretty great, he is.

this should hopefully make up for the fact that he’s sitting next to me biting his fingernails, a habit that is about ready to make my head explode. maybe. pass me another cookie, and i’ll think about it.

grin.