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...and they lived happily ever after. Smith & Lady: poets, artists, photographers & adventurers.
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I hear my bone break

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Another Smith adventure one wouldn’t wish to have . . . broken kneecap, wrong bus, closed bus stops, walking downtown in leg cast seeking phantom bus, pain increasing, script for pain pills in pocket but no way to get to pharmacy.

But first, an ego commercial.

Medusa’s Kitchen (what a cool name) published 6 fotos and 8 poems of mine yesterday. Once again I’m impressed by Kathy Kieth’s marvelous feel for layout. Poet D.R. Wagner snuck me into the Kitchen last fall, and this is the 3rd time Kathy Kieth’s published me since. May this relationship continue — Medusa’s Kitchen >
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2016/01/twixt-ape-and-angel.html

I touched the surface of my own leg bone when I was ten (see below), and now 60 years later I hear my kneecap break.

Taking my bicycle down to the basement yesterday, the front tire turned sideways when it reached the floor and jerked to a stop while this jerk kept going and landed left knee on concrete floor. Heard a crisp, sharp CRACK and thought gee that doesn’t sound encouraging, but got up, walked around, everything seemed to work though it did hurt. Spent next few hours trying to ignore what that CRACK had to mean, hoping the famous Smith luck would save me yet again, but knee got bigger and bigger until this morning I went to the ExpressCare. That’s the second time I’ve broken myself one day and waited till the next to go to the doctor. Last time was 1985 when I broke both wrists and elbows doing an art installation – you should have seen me driving myself to the hospital next morning with double breaks in both arms — turning corners and parking were pure hell. Within the week had to change a flat tire in the rain with broken appendages while the car jack kept sinking into the mud – took so long and hurt so bad I broke out laughing at how well the gods got me.

Broke my patella (knee cap). They immobilized my left knee with a cast on which I hobbled three blocks to a bus stop and got on the wrong bus. Got off, found right bus to downtown to catch another bus home. But downtown is all torn up to fix stuff before the Republicans get here for their Presidential convention next year, so I hobbled on my broken knee a couple blocks only to see sign saying “This bus stop was closed 10 months ago due to construction, you idiot.” Wishing I had the crutches waiting at home, I cane my pain leg another two block to where I know my home bus stops, only to find it no longer goes anywhere near there. I’m starting to think I’m in one of those Twilight Zone hell shows, in increasing pain, aware I have a prescription for codeine in my pocket but no way to get to the pharmacy until wife comes home from work hours from now. I walk another two blocks to where the taxis wait, but due to construction, they’re no longer there. Walk more and more and more on broken knee, finally find cab, friendly Algerian driver gets me home for 5 times what my bus costs, but at least I’m home.

Find out more when I go to the doctor Tuesday when they suck some of the swollen blood and juices out with a needle. Internet says six weeks in cast, though some replace the cast with a brace after 2-3 weeks to get rehab started sooner. The bad news is I only went out in the 17 degree cold to buy a billion dollar Powerball lottery ticket, and I got but one number right.

So far have broken at least eight ribs, right hand, right wrist, left wrist, right elbow, left elbow, collar bone, big toe, left knee, and cracked my pelvis . . . there are likely more I’ve forgotten.

As for the time I touched my exposed shin bone 60 years ago — from the memoir:

My biggest and best scar is the six inch curve below my right knee. I ran and jumped a block wall and crashed leg first into the top edge of a second hidden block wall. I got up and had trouble walking, so I sat down and pulled my pants leg up to take a look. My flesh had separated into a six inch open bloodless ā€œVā€ all the way down to bone. The exposed tibia was pure incredible glowing whiteness in the sun. I was so fascinated that I touched it. I touched my own living skeleton bone with my finger flesh. It felt cool, hard, slick.

eyecircles


6 Responses to “I hear my bone break”

  1. D.R. Wagner says:

    can’t leave you alone for ten minute without you hurting yourself. Dammit! Smith. This has to stop. Be well soon.

  2. Kevin says:

    Maybe that was you in the picture I posted today, standing next to your own skeleton & not Edgar. If so, you did look a might wobbly…?

  3. christina says:

    gosh.. sounds like you will be under house confinement for a while… how are you manage the stairs with all this going on?

  4. Chris says:

    What an ordeal! I remember having a broken heelbone, it really puts in perspective how miraculous it is just to be able to walk.

  5. smith says:

    Thank you, my friend. I’ve got a lot of practice being broken past 7 decades.

  6. smith says:

    Reminds you how often you bend your knee when your knee’s in a cast

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