Not quite a fall but a bloody good fright. I caught my foot on the edge of the thingee the workmen haul up to service the elevators and nearly went flying down the down elevator.
I grabbed the handrail, no witnesses of my stupidity and clumsiness and no harm done.
Until last night.
I'm used to my left leg going into strange spasms because of fluid in the spine but last night, the right leg decided to join forces. How hard is it to walk with the big toe sticking straight up in the air? Very hard since I seem to be chronically unbalanced all the time.
Every three hours, another ice pack and somewhere in there I think I went to sleep in the chair.
The pain is (if I'm stupid enough to poke at it again) around the waist area so it must have happened when I grabbed for the handrail. So now there are two bad spinal areas I'm trying to calm down.
Panadol, ice packs and TENS unit for the next couple of days and I could be okay.
It didn't help that I got trapped in the old folks home in the storm yesterday. The downpour was so strong it came down the roof in waves and bypassed the spouting, creating Niagara Falls in the courtyard. Cars parked out the front were up to their bonnets in water and it took me over half an hour to get home by taxi because the railway gates were all down. I did my good deed when I did get home by unhooking the tarp on the ute and letting the water go from his precious baby. Then I dragged in the bins, dragged in the groceries and finally got to sit down.
At least the cat's backed off, it remembered what happened last time it put its nose on the electrodes. Christmas is crap.
17 comments:
That storm yesterday was frightening, so much water in so little time, but you had it worse than me, by the sound of things.
Still, I'm sensitive about legs and feet and all things that help us get about after my own broken leg, which is now nearly healed.
Take care, JahTeh.
The shock of Lord Hughes' return was that bad?!
I'm thinking you should have said something to someone and got yourself off to the gp at a rate of knots.
Probably nothing you aren't already correctly treating but it's better to have it checked.
Just in case Santa starts tap dancing in your Bombay.
Elisabeth, I get more terrified every time I fall and I meant escalators not elevators. All this walking for exercise is great if you're not looking at the ground for gumnuts, holes or bits of tree.
Lord Hughes is a shock at any time but especially when he jumps out of cyberspace unexpectedly. Back is getting better and no-one gets my Bombay.
Much sympathy and empathy and concern from me.
I fell in Swanston St once - sober, flat-heel shoes, no apparent reason. 12 people rushed to help me die of embarrassments.
IF, you were litigious, that Mall fall could have been worth the price of a car.
I am worried about Hughesy - they are minus 20 degrees over there.
You had a storm???
I'm so jealous. I love storms!
Sigh.
But youch on your almost fall. Grabbing the handrail probably pulled a few muscles in the rib/waist area. Take it really easy for a few days. I hope you didn't break the big toe.
On a totally unrelated issue, don't try to eat jelly while reading blogs. The stuff wobbles and falls off the spoon.....
I hate to say this Stacks, but I can beat that. Walking up Bourke St looking in shop windows and didn't see the flat seat in front of me and ended up full stretch along it and I had flat shoes and was sober.
I see two pensioners died in their garden from the cold. I bet his Lordship has several cats about his person to keep him warm.
River, It was funny because there wasn't much thunder during the storm just a hell of a lot of water but after it finished and the oldies were in bed, settled down there was lightning and one almighty crack of thunder. That shook them up a bit.
Novice blog eater, if you put cherries or peaches in the jelly you can stab it with a fork.
When I was a lout we used to press the stop button on escaltors to see what the people would do. They always stood there a moment, then began walking.
Here's a laugh, Murderess Trish Clark, strange bird, has been moved to a govt hostel in Fairfield. A sign outside says "No Male Visitors". Good heavens, what is it, a nunnery? ha ha. Well its broken up our learned trio; we have to do latte now, in Station Street.
They don't mind that, the DHS.
Of course not.
Well I've commented on a few blogs today, I'm in top form.
My biographical subject says things are meant to happen. Maybe they are, Murderess is in Fairfield, which should mean lots to me, I was in Fairfield Infectious Diseases Hospital with my mother, I was a newborn, big brown eyes. The buildings are Federation, on the Heritage Register. How interesting. I'll have a look.
A storm? What's a storm? Around here it just sort of dribbles snow..
Nelson Place and the strange old bastard at Mussels Fish Cafe has left plates out on the tables again and gone to bed, switching lights off on people still eating. When I thought my Hibiscus was done for the year a single pink flower appears. How surreal. Jails, mental hospitals, rooming houses, job centers, all the love and cheer of railway stations. Courthouses, flophouses, police stations, orphanages, sleeping in laneways and abandoned cars. Lights blinking on Newport power station. Sky pale across the river.
And so greetings to the dead. Hail to the crazy, morning coming down the road. Darlings, it's my birthday.
"I did my good deed when I did get home by unhooking the tarp on the ute and letting the water go from his precious baby."
Hold on while I find my Klingon dictionary...
oh Brian Brian Brian -
tarpaulin covers the stuff in the back of the ute a.k.a Utility Vehicle. Ubiquitous on Aussie roads.
Bumper stickers:
"yes this is my ute and no I won't help you move house"
"I'd rather push my Holden than drive a Ford"
(you have Holdens in England and they are rebadged as Vauxhalls according to Top Gear)
You dirty dogs, you filthy swine, not ONE single response for my birthday. But hell, who's surprised, just what I'd expect from riff-raff like you.
Get some class!- you zombies!
-Christ, what a challenge!- the day you show any spark I'll PULL OUT MY COCK IN BOURKE STREET!
Honestly, jokes aside, what cadavers, about as lively as a pimp giving evidence.
Well. One day you'll regret what you haven't said to me, as the bucks roll in.
Aye, one day you'll want to know me.
Robbert, 'Cock o' the walk' in Bourke Street and yes, we'll all know you then. Happy Birthday, I should have said it but I was having dirty big needles stuck in my arm for two hours yesterday. Believe me your birthday happiness was the last thing on my mind. Now I'll be scanning Bourke Street for a scruffy individual with an undone fly or flies although if you haven't showered you could have both.
Stacks, you have to explain everything about the beloved country to these snowbound diggers of antiquities especially the love a revhead has for his ute.
Your Lordship, we are talking about a prize, a treasure beyond words, a crappy white rust covered wreck that has been transformed into a shiny gloss black and silver vroom vroom worthy of 'Top Gear'. The lad is good, he'd even make you look like a god.
"The lad is good, he'd even make you look like a god."
Claudius, perhaps.
How about Aphrodite?
Beg your pardon, what do you think I am; I'm always well dressed when I flash.
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