Posts Tagged ‘sprained ankle’
Snap
.
.
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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Not Proud
Out of respect for the whole truth, I must report that it isn’t always sunshine-happy-roses here at Wintervale, despite all my blissful stories. Yesterday afternoon, Cyndie got out of her car after work, hobbling on a sprained ankle. She reported that it happened as she was squeezing out time before work that she didn’t really have, trying to walk Delilah one last time before leaving. Delilah ran off with gusto, pulling Cyndie off-balance.
With me trying to help out, doing more of the walking chores, we headed down to the barn to invite the horses into the paddock for their evening grain. I don’t know where he had been rolling, but Hunter arrived with dirt covering him, head to hoof. He was an absolute mess. Regardless the hindrance of her painful sprain, Cyndie wanted to try to clean him up. She worked her way into the paddock, with brushes and cleaning supplies.
He wasn’t interested.
She turned to Legacy, who had a fair amount of dirt on his back, giving him the option of being groomed. He didn’t seem to want to hang around, either. As we stood at the gate, after exiting, Legacy appeared to want to give us one last message. He presented his backside and lifted his tail. Message received.
We left the sorry-looking geldings to strut their muddy body art.
I dropped Cyndie off at the house and headed around back to retrieve Delilah from her kennel. Yes, she is still behaving like a puppy, despite our impression that she should be beyond portions of it now. For the second time in three days, she has ripped and de-stuffed articles of bedding. I found her insulated blanket torn open and puffs of white stuffing spread all over the place. It is so frustrating, especially when she presents such an obvious look pride for her “accomplishment.”
On Saturday, Delilah was confined to her crate in the house, while we entertained guests. She made quick work of the bed Cyndie had tossed in there while cleaning. Ever so quietly, Delilah pulled the green stuffing out of it to surround herself, before lying down to nap.
Shortly after coming inside with Delilah yesterday, as I brought a cold pack for Cyndie’s ankle, while she propped her foot up in the living room, I stepped in a pile of poop Delilah had covertly dropped on the rug the day before. That afternoon was when Elysa was over, and both she and I smelled something, but weren’t wily enough to follow our noses to the source. Discovery was delayed for 24 hours.
Maybe we can blame Delilah for all the flies in the house. There has been an epic population explosion of flies around here this summer, and now that we have an unending supply of manure, the flies are thicker than ever. With Cyndie on the couch, pointing them out, I swatted at flies in a fruitless effort to curb the infestation.
This was not one of our proudest days.
Relative Something 