Luckily, I haven't suffered many injuries in my life. The ones I have had, however, have naturally tended to be strange. I've always been (fairly) active, and you would think that would make me more prone to accidents and injuries. But no, most of the time when I've been hurt, it hasn't had anything at all to do with sports or other physical activities. There was the (I think) broken tailbone when I had a bad landing while skydiving, and another incident in that sport in which I think I was about 8 seconds from death......but that's for another post.
I have dislocated both knees multiple times. The first time was in high school, and I WAS trying out for cheerleading on that particular occasion. Nothing more embarrassing that trying to do your best split in front of half the high school and having your knee pop out of place. The next time I dislocated it I WAS playing softball in a cow pasture, but COME ON.....I merely bent down to pick up the ball. It's not like I was sliding gloriously into second base or anything. I wasn't even in the batter's box. Oh wait.....we were in a pasture. Never mind about the batter's box. Or second base.
The next time I dislocated my knee was the last quarter of my senior year in college. And I stepped off a bus. Seriously. There I was, in front of all those people, and I collapsed to the pavement right in front of the bookstore. On the first day of class. How lucky for me that my classes alternated between North Campus and South Campus. Fifth period South, sixth period North, seventh period South, eighth period (Women's Glee Club.....my absolute favorite, and I'm NOT being sarcastic this time) North. The campus bus stops could not have been placed LESS conveniently for those four particular buildings. I hauled my arse across the bridge all those times ON CRUTCHES for two weeks. And then with a cane.
I even insisted on going to a UGA football game on crutches, although the doctor did talk me into leaving my leg brace at home. We left the tailgating spot an hour before kickoff (for the life of me I can't remember which friend was kind enough to go with me, but whoever you are I LOVE YOU STILL), and I missed first quarter. Left the game at the end of third quarter, and there was nary a piece of chicken left when I got back. I think they had constructed some new dorms by the time I got back.
I managed a few years injury-free, except for the aforementioned tailbone thing, until Sweet Girl was around 5 years old. As a favor to a friend, I was attending a school event at the middle school where I taught. Naturally I took Sweet Girl along with me, because I thought she needed the cultural experience of a middle school orchestra concert. Whatever. She was at that stage that all children go through, namely collecting bathrooms. Every new place she went, she HAD to use THAT bathroom, because it was a completely new and thrilling experience. She also HAD to bring along a stuffed animal, because that was something else she does. Did. Whatever.
It was a stuffed rabbit on this occasion, and I'll tell you why I remember that. Sweet Girl was sitting on the toilet, probably not doing anything useful, and I was relegated to the job of holding the bunny. (Was I relegated to the job? or was the job relegated to me? I'm too tired to look it up.) Then she needed toilet tissue, and I stuck the bunny BETWEEN MY KNEES and TURNED TO GET THE TOILET PAPER. Very bad idea. My knee popped out, and I hit the floor.
In her defense, Sweet Girl thought I was trying to entertain her. I guess that's the only reasonable explanation for why her mother was suddenly sprawled on the floor in the stall of a middle school bathroom. So she laughed. Hilariously. Uproariously. Until she realized I was crying, at which point she extended her little bitty hand to me and said, while still sitting on the potty, "Here, Mommy.....I hep you up." (Note: she said "hep" and not "help." I'm trying to be historically accurate here.)
The last time (and please, God, DO let it be the last time ever) I dislocated my knee was a couple of years after hubby and I got married. I was mopping the floor, and I still don't know if I stepped in some water in my Keds, or if it would have just happened anyway. There I was AGAIN, lying on the floor and crying in pain. With no one else here. Sweet Girl was at work, hubby was at work. When he got home, hubby was very sweet to fix me an ice pack and fetch my well-used crutches from the basement. When I told him what had happened, he said, "You should have known better than to try something new."
My mother-in-law said it was because I was mopping on Sunday.