Posts Tagged ‘injury’
Pushing Abilities
One moment of losing focus on the task at hand can have unwelcome consequences. I took a blow to the leg when I least expected it; a smack hard enough to bruise bone and break the skin. No, it wasn’t while using the chainsaw, nor the string trimmer or hedge trimmer. I stubbed my leg against one of the rocks along the front of our fireplace.
Is this why running in the house is frowned upon? I was fully engaged in Asher’s favorite indoor pastime of pursuing him and the toy in his mouth as he ran laps around the spiral staircase and the furniture in the living room.
The game came to a screaming halt, with the screaming coming from me as I wailed over the sudden crippling pain. Cyndie worried I’d seriously injured myself, not having a clue what had caused my outburst. I worried I might never walk again.
Okay, that is an unnecessary exaggeration. Some quick first-aid in the form of an ice pack from Cyndie and elevation had me back functional in about 30 minutes. The extent of the wound serves as an indication of just how fast I can get moving on two feet, so I see it as a badge of my athletic prowess. Still, I wasn’t fast enough to catch Asher.
The bruised leg didn’t prevent me from making some impressive progress on pushing the abilities of my Greenworks riding mower to mow along the fence line from inside the pastures.
It’s asking a lot from the machine to cut such tall, thick grass where the surface is dramatically uneven with divots from horse hooves, piles of dirt from gophers, and some unavoidable piles of manure. The effort is compounded by the occasional plugging of the mower exit chute and the fully understandable interruption of the PTO when a blade motor over-temp sensor is tripped.
I learned from a Greenworks support technician that a blade of grass can get up inside a gap along the spindle to cause the error that trips the sensor and shuts down the blades. The only time that has been a problem for me is when I try mowing where the grass is too much for this mower, so it’s not the machine’s fault.
Since I now know how to solve the issue, it’s not that concerning, and I find myself more willing to push the machine beyond its limits. I stumbled a little bit the first time it happened yesterday because I was getting a second error code that had me walking back to the shop to charge a battery in hopes of limping the mower back to the garage. Reviewing the manual for error codes alerted me that I hadn’t reset the PTO button to “off” after the blade motor sensor tripped.
The mower won’t start with the PTO in the “on” position. D’oh!
As soon as I resolved all the issues, I was back in business. It worked so well the rest of the way, I continued to mow pasture away from the fence. The area around the round pen is a hassle to navigate with the diesel tractor and brush hog, so the more I can do with the little riding mower, the better.
It’s as impressive as heck that the Greenworks zero-turn riding mower is up to handling everything I push it to do.
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Twelve Years
Have you ever heard of a granuloma?
gran•u•lo•ma | granyə’lōmə |
a mass of granulation tissue, typically produced in response to infection, inflammation, or the presence of a foreign substance.
Twelve years ago, this happened to me:
“…I started to get careless and impatient. I stepped right into the needle-sharp point of a wood thorn on one tree branch. It punctured the side of my knee and left me in a lot of pain. I checked more than once to make sure the tip hadn’t broken off in there. It didn’t look like it, but it sure hurt like something was still in there.” – Relative Something: Day Off, July 23, 2013
The site of the puncture became reddened and eventually purple. On occasion, I was able to drain some pus or clear fluid. My doctor looked at it once and decided it didn’t look concerning. After a while, it calmed down and just remained a purple dot on the side of my knee that I lived with, unconcerned. I would have guessed maybe five years had passed. Possibly seven.
A couple of weeks ago, the site began to swell up anew. It became hard to ignore, and I picked at it a bit. The top dead layer of skin over the site would flake off. When I picked at the skin recently, it opened up and released clear fluid again. I told myself I would give it closer attention when I next had an opportunity.
That opportunity was Sunday evening. After I’d done some squeezing around the area, I noticed a dark spot. I grabbed a pair of tweezers and prepared to see what I could accomplish.
This was the result:
For twelve years, that thorn was poked straight into the side of my knee so deep it was not visible. Apparently, my cells had walled it off to isolate it, and the situation became a standoff. I am lucky that it didn’t interfere with the knee joint and became easy to ignore. The only reason I figured out it had been in there for twelve years was because I knew I had written about it in this blog when it happened, and found the post by searching for the words “thorn” and “puncture.”
As I attempted to grip it with the tweezers, I worried it would be mushy and break apart, but it was completely solid and hard enough to be easily grasped.
At almost 2 cm long, I could barely believe my eyes as it exited my knee in one long, smooth pull. I’ve been feeling giddy over having it out ever since. It’s kind of funny to me that I had grown indifferent to the purple spot for more than a decade, but now feel so overjoyed to have the cause of that dot extracted. I’m curious as to why my body decided it was finally time to push it to the surface. Maybe it was just so deep it took this long to do.
None of that matters now. It’s out! And I am incredibly happy that it is.
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Bang. Ouch!
This morning, the horses grazing in the arena space to the choral serenade of innumerable songbirds was right up there on a list of top idyllic moments we enjoy at our Wintervale paradise.
That is in stark contrast to the anxious drama that played out yesterday.
It started normal enough, but quickly shifted when a startling accident drew blood. For me, it was the sound that was most unsettling. The cries and curses, and then the flowing blood were all more of a given, considering the indescribable sound of impact and the reaction it unleashed.
I rushed over to Cyndie’s aid and worked to calm her while I recovered her glasses and guided her out from under the willow tree and up the driveway to the house. I had immediately placed my hand over her bloody forehead and then told her to use her own hand to keep pressure on the wound while we walked.
Not having taken time to immediately inspect the source of all the blood, I imagined a series of possibilities while we walked. I was also factoring in a potential trip to an emergency room to get her stitched up. Luckily, that turned out to be unnecessary.
Today is Cyndie’s birthday. She has given herself a hell of a black eye for the occasion. That, and a story to tell.
I’m not sure it is my place to reveal the full detail of her foible, but let’s just say you have probably witnessed the scenario play out on a few cartoons or slapstick episodes of Laurel and Hardy and The Three Stooges.
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Wish her a happy birthday. 🙂
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Snap
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sometimes when I walk
my ankle cracks
with (snap)
every (snap)
single (snap)
step (snap)
but that isn’t
much of a surprise
given the number of times
that ankle has rolled
and swelled
an explosion of pain
a searing fire of anguish
bursting with adrenaline
from a shock
at the sudden invasion
of a disability
temporary, yes
but such a dramatic switch
from the athletic endeavor
underway for the period of time
just prior to the injury
that eventually heals
so I walk normal again
and play sports again
until it rolls again
leading to what really surprises me
after all of this
just why it is that the sound
of the joint cracking
at every single step
only happens
some of the time
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Relative Something 