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Halfway through March I made a plan to make April a month of fool as I plan to ‘let loose on April Fools’ and I mean to do it the whole month instead of just on its first day. So far I think overdid it.
Last Saturday I twisted my left ankle walking down a stairs on my way to reflexology parlor (how was that for irony?). And that wasn’t even verbally expressed just now. “I twisted my ankle” made it sound as if it was an action of full commitment on my part and a consent from my ankle (it was not, on both account). The foot immediately swelled, and some veins that previously weren’t there emerged, crisscrossing here and there (I saw this as it happened. Scary stuff, I tell you), and making a lot of worries.*
But my friend and I proceeded with the original plan. At the parlor, I made a specific request for the masseus in charge not to make any physical contact whatsoever with the lower part of my left leg. He, instead, saw my circumstances as a challenge. He offered an extra free service to fix --to borrow his exact term-- the problem (“maybe when fixed, he’ll make a great comment to the boss and give me a raise”). He made this two-hand gesture of one hand twisting in circular direction and the other to its opposite. I definitely don’t want to fill the blank with my left leg, so I kindly declined --with excuses, now looking back, must have sounded stupid at best, sissy for sure. I came out the parlor safe. No salaries were raised out of that transaction. I limped on.
The sad part about all this is that when I fell, I wasn’t doing any reading. If I did, by now I would just collecting numerous i-told-you-so’s. That’s just plain predictable. No harm done, so to speak. Since the whole ordeal didn’t involved a book of any sort, me falling is just plain stupid. I let loose too much in April.
It has been almost 72 hours since the twist, and any moment now the foot will claim its original size, the joint will soon pivoting the foot multidirectionally freely as before, and I will walk normal again. Most important, there will be no more surprise jolt of pain during sleeps (the body is playing April pranks on me, this way.
So I can’t believe I’m saying this: I’m gonna miss limping.
PS: * My friend, who had the idea of having R&R to the parlor in first place, made a lot of these worrying fusses. He kept asking if I was okay, which I answered that I would be --which didn’t meet quite the minimum quality of response required to decide if we proceed with or cancel the ‘massage project’ (so much for concern).
.
Halfway through March I made a plan to make April a month of fool as I plan to ‘let loose on April Fools’ and I mean to do it the whole month instead of just on its first day. So far I think overdid it.
Last Saturday I twisted my left ankle walking down a stairs on my way to reflexology parlor (how was that for irony?). And that wasn’t even verbally expressed just now. “I twisted my ankle” made it sound as if it was an action of full commitment on my part and a consent from my ankle (it was not, on both account). The foot immediately swelled, and some veins that previously weren’t there emerged, crisscrossing here and there (I saw this as it happened. Scary stuff, I tell you), and making a lot of worries.*
But my friend and I proceeded with the original plan. At the parlor, I made a specific request for the masseus in charge not to make any physical contact whatsoever with the lower part of my left leg. He, instead, saw my circumstances as a challenge. He offered an extra free service to fix --to borrow his exact term-- the problem (“maybe when fixed, he’ll make a great comment to the boss and give me a raise”). He made this two-hand gesture of one hand twisting in circular direction and the other to its opposite. I definitely don’t want to fill the blank with my left leg, so I kindly declined --with excuses, now looking back, must have sounded stupid at best, sissy for sure. I came out the parlor safe. No salaries were raised out of that transaction. I limped on.
The sad part about all this is that when I fell, I wasn’t doing any reading. If I did, by now I would just collecting numerous i-told-you-so’s. That’s just plain predictable. No harm done, so to speak. Since the whole ordeal didn’t involved a book of any sort, me falling is just plain stupid. I let loose too much in April.
It has been almost 72 hours since the twist, and any moment now the foot will claim its original size, the joint will soon pivoting the foot multidirectionally freely as before, and I will walk normal again. Most important, there will be no more surprise jolt of pain during sleeps (the body is playing April pranks on me, this way.
So I can’t believe I’m saying this: I’m gonna miss limping.
PS: * My friend, who had the idea of having R&R to the parlor in first place, made a lot of these worrying fusses. He kept asking if I was okay, which I answered that I would be --which didn’t meet quite the minimum quality of response required to decide if we proceed with or cancel the ‘massage project’ (so much for concern).
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