• Last modified 3246 days ago (Sept. 1, 2010)


Life is a series of bumps, bruises, and broken bones?

Anyone who knows me knows I am not very graceful.

Heck, I’m not just not graceful, I’m clumsy. Stubbed toes and broken fingernails are frequent.

My Better Half and I have been bike riding — as in bicycle riding — for the past several months. We generally ride on weekends, taking advantage of cool mornings.

I am always well aware of the pitfalls of bike riding — loose gravel, wet grass, and of course, other people on foot, on bikes, and in cars.

Sunday afternoon was like any other day. Don and I road our bikes in the morning and were going about our usual Sunday habits.

Later in the day, I took the bike out for a little spin when I did something stupid, causing the bike to crash. Normally, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal, except we’re talking about me. Where there’s a crash and I’m involved, there usually is an injury.

For me, cooking is a dangerous activity. I don’t just cut myself, I slice. A scratch becomes a gash. A hangnail usually draws blood. Taking pans out of the oven usually results in a burn.

I’ve been known to set my hair on fire, break coolers, and get fishing hooks caught on things.

Anyway, after I hit the concrete, I looked at my leg and saw I had a second a kneecap on my leg below the kneecap that is supposed to be there. The pain and the second kneecap indicated to me there probably was something wrong. My independent stubbornness told me to get up and walk it off.

After being helped to my feet, I realized I couldn’t just walk it off. Ice packs didn’t help, so we headed to the emergency room.

An X-ray and two shots of pain medication later, it appeared there was a fracture and an orthopedic surgeon would need to set it.

On Monday, we waited to see the doctor and learned the results of tests. A wheelchair was the best mode of transportation for me Monday.

I have always been an independent person. Short of leaping tall buildings in a single bound, I pride myself at being able to do what needs to be done when it needs to be done and doing the best I can in the process.

On top of that, I’m a nurturer. I’m the one who takes care of others. I do not like it when I have to be cared for.

Long story short, I’m hobbling on crutches and resigned to sleeping on the recliner for the time being. The doctor will take another look at me today to determine the next step.

When I heal and return to bike riding — and I will — I might want to invest in some kneepads. Better yet, maybe some bubble wrap.

— susan berg

Last modified Sept. 1, 2010