The fog lifts.
Battered I feel.
I took a tumble the other day.
One would think that a person would recognize that when a large group of people are bustling about, the lighting is dim and even dimmer at the floor level that the person they dump their over-sized stuffed black bag beside may not realize that said bag is there. Perhaps she could have said something like ‘my bag is on the floor beside you’.But she did not.And I did not. So… stepping carefully over my own bag, mindful that it was dark, and I didn’t want to trip over the straps of my bag… I stepped… then stepped again… right foot anchored… like a bird caught in a snare, leaping upward only to have the noose tighten and slammed back to earth.
Fortunately for me, I have worked on getting back into shape over this past year.
For I landed on my left side, my left arm and hand braced against the fall, all the while twisting my right side into the fall to take some of the impact.Its taken a few days for damage other than the immediate contact point to show itself
I don’t think I have a ligament, tendon, or muscle that isn’t in some degree of discomfort
Even my brain has been mushy.
I seldom take drugs… of any sort… but to ease the inflammation and relax, I have indulged in – acetaminophen and IBUs, (a hard toss between them and the bottle of wine) this is both a shock to my system and my ego.
Old habits press upon my mind when trauma happens. The discomfort ignored, yet undermines my day.
All my plans have gone awry.
My emotional shield… propped up with adrenaline, didn’t hold and for one brief moment.
A bubble of rage flashed …. Startling in its intensity.
Fortunate I am… no bones broken. Though, spotted with bruises large and small.
Yellowing each passing day.