Old age. It just keeps getting better and better.

I feel like an old man. Or an old woman.

Yesterday I decided to get off to a good start and went walking. I didn’t overdo it or anything, just two miles at a moderate pace. Then I spent the day weeding, cleaning, shopping, making lunch, etc. I don’t know WHAT I could have done to tweak my back, but after rehearsal, I sped off to watch Megan’s softball game. It was a bit cold sitting on those bleachers, and I wrapped myself in a blanket. All was fine. When I got up from the bleachers, my lower back was very stiff and hurting.

I walked to the car with Megan, who was limping because her heel hurt. Now if anyone has REASON to be sore, it would be this girl. She had a two hour soccer camp in the morning, played kick ball with the Young Women, and then played a baseball game. We made our way painfully to the car. When we got home, I walked into the house like an old woman, and painfully climbed the stairs. My lovely daughter was making fun of me because I was walking funny from my aching back. Thanks, kid. I went to go and get my wheat bag to heat up, so I could put that like a heating pad on my back.

In my room, I looked for the wheat bag. I thought it might be under the bed, so I used my foot to lift up the bedskirt. My other foot must not have been placed right, because at that moment, my ankle turned and ***WHOMP*** I was on the floor. On my way to the floor, I twisted my ankle, smacked my head on my dresser and my arm hit on a dresser knob. Nothing to do but put my head down on the floor and cry.

My daughter heard the ruckus (but strangely, hubby downstairs didn’t hear it) and came in to see what was going on. Oh, the humiliation of being there on the floor. I said I was ok, picked myself up, and went to bed. My back hurt, my shoulders and neck now hurt, my ankle was throbbing and my arm hurt. My hip also hurt from the hitting the floor.

Ryan came up after Megan told him about my lovely accident, and heated up my wheat bag (hidden somewhere on his side of the room) and asked if I was ok. No, I’m not ok. I’m old and falling apart. Oh, how sorry for myself I felt. All night, I tossed and turned and tried to get comfortable and sleep. And you want to know what bothered me the most? Was it the back? The neck? The ankle? No, it was the ripped toenail that kept snagging on the sheet every time I moved.

This morning, I got up slowly and surveyed the damages. The ankle, while a little tender, is not swollen, nor does it hurt too much. The arm really hurts, but there’s only a tiny bruise (what?), the back of the head has a tiny bump that hurts when I touch it, but nothing major. I clipped the snagged toenail, so hopefully that won’t be a problem, but it was quite hard to even reach my toe. The back still hurts.

I’m walking around like an old man. Or an old woman. I might as well make my reservations at the nursing home.