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Please, just give me some sympathy damn it

So, today I fell down the stairs while holding Kaylee.  For a fall down the stairs, it really was pretty minor.  My foot slipped and I slid down the rest of the stairs with my left leg tucked under me.  Kaylee just sort of rode on my lap all the way down, so for her it was kind of like riding a roller coaster with Mommy, except that instead of laughing and screaming in exhilaration, her mother was yelling, “Shit!  Ow!  Shit, shit, shit!”

Although I can walk around just fine and I know for sure that nothing’s broken, my foot does hurt to the touch and in my opinion it should be mostly purple.  It is not.

Sometimes I wish I bruised more easily, because I rarely have anything I can show people when I hurt myself.  Kaylee can headbutt me in the face, I can slam a car door on my fingers, I can walk face-first into a sliding glass door, I can fall down the freaking stairs, and I never have anything to show for it.

Here’s a hypothetical but completely typical scenario:
ME: Oh my god, Kaylee tried to break my face today.
FRIEND: Oh no, are you ok?  Where did she get you?
ME: (pointing to a perfectly healthy-looking spot on my cheek) Right here.  It really hurts.
FRIEND: … … So, what movies have you seen lately?

Later in the evening, we were all in Kaylee’s bathroom brushing our teeth – she’ll only brush hers if we brush ours – when I slammed my elbow into the corner of the bathroom door.  A few minutes later I stubbed my toe really hard on my damn dog.  (He’s fine.)

As I explained to Rob that I’d somehow managed to hurt myself walking into a dog, I was half laughing and half crying about the absurdity of my day.

Because you all know what’s going to happen if this keeps up, right?  I’ll be practically immobilized with pain, with half my body covered in one big bruise, and nobody will be able to tell.  I’ll be the picture of health, except for the fact that I’m cowered in the corner, whimpering.

Reader Comments (2)

You have my sympathy. I've had those days (well, life really) where I am clumsy for no apparent reason. Although I bruise easily and can show off my injuries. It's just not all that cool, though, when someone asks you how you got a bruise and you have to answer, "I'm not sure. I may have hit myself in my sleep."

March 23, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterPam

I still remember a few years ago when you, me, your mom and brother went to East Texas and the van door slammed shut across all four of your fingers. That image still freaks me out. I don't remember you having a bruise though. That is why I make you show me where your hands are before I shut the van door to this very day.

March 25, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterDad

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