a bit uprooted

Here I am, currently alive in the land of the free and the home of the chili dog, and I haven’t posted a stitch in two weeks.  This is not because I don’t have the time.  I have plenty of time.  This is because I am lost in the swirl, I think.  This has happened to me a few times (example). I think I didn’t quite understand that when I came to the US for surgery, I came for SURGERY.  Knock you off your feet, heavy meds and lots of bed SURGERY.  For some reason I had it in mind…

busted

So, on Friday I stood up.  That’s all. ___________ Well, that seems simple enough, standing.  Except that it seems I must have aged or something because unlike most occasions of acting out that evolutionary miracle, this time it hurt.  I stood up, and my knee screamed at me. Its horrible commands were clear: “Down, you! Down!”  And down I went in a flurry of unmentionable speech and frantic claspings of the knee.  I was out of town for The Europeans’ going away party.  And there in Kristine’s room I had fallen and could not get up. Calls were made.  Drunk…