Experts in human behaviour theorize that when you’re depressed or your life is “out of sorts,” you become more accident prone. I’m beginning to think that they’re right.
After finally getting our house on the market, I looked forward to writing about our “fall from financial grace” under the category “A HOLE IN OUR PARACHUTE.” Then on Thursday night, after a busy, stress-filled day, guilt set in. I realized that while my husband had taken Cadeau out twice a day for washroom breaks, I hadn’t actually walked our little shih tzu in three or four days. Despite being well past dusk, I took him outside. At the end of our driveway, I looked left then right, deciding which way to go. I chose left, not my usual direction on our country road. It was the wrong decision. On my return, with the sky now black and no streetlights to show the way, my left foot caught a rut in the ground’s surface. I twisted my ankle, stumbled forward and fell over onto my right knee, right hand, and the right side of my face.
I knew it was bad – my teeth smashed together and I was sure one had broken (I was wrong). I was also certain I’d broken my cheekbone and my left foot. Two cars went by and didn’t stop to help me. Finally, I got myself up and limped home, crying all the way – not with the pain of it as much as the fear of what I’d done.
Bottom line: bruising and swelling of my foot and right knee, a black eye; cracked ribs high on my right side, a swollen, bruised cheekbone…and to top it all off, a broken right wrist that may still require surgery.
Needless to say, I’m pretty miserable. I’m not used to relying on someone else at the best of times, but asking hubby to blow-dry my hair so I don’t look like Janis Joplin, and dealing with the fact that even finished, I’m still Janis Joplin with a slight hair relaxer is, well….driving me nuts. I feel like a spoiled baby, but sometimes, after dealing with all kinds of serious drama in your life, it’s the silly last thing that happens that puts you over the edge (hence the straw and camel’s back expression).
Anyway, readers, this has put a serious dent in my typing abilities, so for a week or so, I’ll need to stay away from the keyboard. It’s too much to hunt and peck with my left hand, when it’s also still recovering from a break back in December.
And yes, a bone density test is on my to-do list for this week. *wink*
Right from the start, my husband and I realized we shared a similar philosophy towards money: it couldn’t buy happiness, but it was definitely meant to be enjoyed. Now, that doesn’t sound too unusual, until you consider the fact that together, we put a higher value on enjoying our money than we did on saving it. Until recently, I didn’t really consider the reasons for that shared view. To be honest, I was too busy just trying to make everything “work.” But in going through a situation like the one we’re in, you inevitably come to a point where you can no longer blame only circumstances. You begin to blame yourself. Self-recrimination is all part of the “mourning” process, but it can only go on so long, and once it was over, I had a lingering need to understand “why” we’d made some of our choices over the years. After all, we weren’t stupid. We weren’t extravagant. And to be honest, we weren’t terribly materialistic. So how did we get to this point in our lives, when we’re nearing sixty?
ROADBLOCKS, DETOURS and ROUNDABOUTS 