Posts Tagged ‘injury’

Push Button Baby

August 1, 2017

I saw a couple on the side of the road as I zoomed down Lincoln Way frantically trying to kick over the starter on a vintage Vespa.

I chuckled to myself.

The old Vespas look so fucking cool.

I know.

I used to have one.

It was such a pretty girl.

But.

Man.

It was such a hassle to get it started or it would conk out on me out of the blue.

Like coming down Laguna Honda in the fog going 40 miles an hour.

I got tired of that really fast.

That.

And the freaking horrifying sprained ankle that I got when the kick starter jammed and I folded my ankle in half.

That was no fun.

Months, years really, of healing.

The doctor was shocked it wasn’t broken and then told me it was too bad it wasn’t since the sprain is slower to heal and how badly I had injured it I would be lucky if it was healed fully in a year and a half.

He was right.

It took that much time to heal.

Actually closer to two years, if I’m honest, I had to be really careful and there were times when I could feel it was still injured.

It put a bad taste in my mouth for every having something vintage like that again.

Truth too.

I wasn’t prepared for the amount of maintenance and well, it turned out it was a knock off Vespa, despite the registration issued from the DMV, it was a knock off Vietnam Vespa and no body in town would touch it to repair it.

So.

I got rid of it.

I had it recycled.

I got it off the road.

I wasn’t going to be responsible for someone else getting injured on it and when the mechanics at the shop told me all the issues with it I was shocked that I hadn’t hurt myself more on it, I could have easily crashed it out.

Granted.

There were some gleeful moments on it when someone would pull up to me on it at a light and chat with me about it, the scooter really was well done, no one had a clue it was fake.

Certainly not I.

I was a tiny bit bamboozled you could say.

Any way, that’s an old story and not the point.

The point is.

Thank fucking god for my scooter.

I live in the Outer Sunset.

I work in Glen Park.

My internship is in the Mission.

My school is in the SOMA.

I have supervision in Hayes Valley.

And.

Therapy in Noe Valley.

I have to get all over the city.

And the scooter is quick.

Of course, I do have some anxiety about what will happen when the fall comes and the rains that generally come with the fall.

I will either have to get used to wet weather riding or figure something else out.

I can ride in the rain.

I have done it.

I do not like it, but it’s doable.

I was talking to my friend yesterday as she was getting the last of her household packed up for travels back to France and she looked at me and said, “drive safe poulette (her term of endearment for me–sexy girl, although literal translation is chicken, I like to think of it as “chick” or chickadee), maybe it’s time you got a car.”

Yeah.

There’s that.

Aside from the fact that it would be handy to go to Burning Man.

Heh.

Still haven’t gotten a ride yet, still hedging my bets with a rental, but that too is beside the point.

I don’t know what exactly the point is.

I haven’t had a car for over a decade.

I got rid of mine two weeks after moving here in 2002.

Fuck.

Nearly fifteen years with no car.

Lots of bicycles.

And two scooters.

I do like my scooter and I do so appreciate getting around on it.

I just have time concerns now that I didn’t have before.

I mean.

My schedule has always been full, but then I added in graduate school and graduate school added in an internship and um, ha, since, I’m a therapist in training, I have to be on time for my clients.

I get done with work at 6p.m. and I have clients at 6:30 p.m. Mondays, Tuesday, Thursdays, and I have been assigned a new client to see on Fridays now at 6:30p.m.

My first child client!

Bring on the child and family hours!

Ahem.

I digress.

This whole blog is a digression.

Sometimes when I don’t want to write about what I want to write about, I can go off on tangents.

Shadrach.

Scooter accident.

Dead.

Today.

10 years.

I had a little contact with his mom today after she posted a photo of visiting his grave.

Add onto that saying goodbye yesterday to my darling French friend.

Great recipe for sadness.

I felt heavy with it this morning when I left my house to go meet with my supervisor.

I got to Hayes Valley early and had a fifteen minute window so I called my person and shared about it and he said, “you sound sad,” and there it was, the sad, the heaviness in me, it was sadness.

Tears welled up and spilled down my face.

Yup.

Sad.

So we made a plan to meet at a church in the Inner Sunset after I got out of supervision.

It was so good.

I got right with God.

Then we went for tea at Tart to Tart and had a good session.

We sent my friend from Paris a good-bye photo of the two of us having tea, my face a little wet with tears, and my person smiling to beat the band, ugh, not all selfies are sexy.

Ha.

Oh.

Sadness.

I had my cry though and things began to shift.

I came home, made a nice lunch and then did some school work.

Because.

It’s that time.

I have two syllabi posted up and I checked them out and ordered books for class.

I sighed and realized I was pretty burnt out with the emotions.

And I decided.

You know what?

Nap.

I need a nap.

And that’s what I did.

It was perfect.

I had a little rest then got up, prepped some food for dinner and I could feel the sad had moved out of my body.

I got my things together and hopped back on my scooter, went to my internship, dealt with progress notes and paperwork and then saw a client.

By the time my session ended I was feeling great.

So nice that.

Go.

Be of service.

Feel better.

I scooted home.

Zipped by the park, rode the curves of Lincoln Way, smelled the bonfires at Ocean Beach and though it was cold and a bit foggy, I felt lifted, carried, loved.

I miss you Shadrach.

But.

You would be pretty proud of me.

Ten years.

You think the grief would have gone out of my body, but sometimes it is still there and needs expressing.

I’m grateful I didn’t squash it.

I just had it.

And I’m grateful for the emotions.

I get to have them.

Feelings.

It means I am alive.

And after all the death I have been witness to.

Well.

That’s a fucking miracle.

So glad I still get to be around.

Happy.

Joyous.

Alive.

And.

Free.

It’s The Weekend

August 2, 2014

And I don’t care.

Jimmy crack corn.

Ugh.

It was a week.

And I am glad it’s done and now the weekend which just feels like prepping for the week to come, not really a time of respite or relaxation.

I know I have to change that, or at least that attitude.

By the end of my day I was actively limping again and had a few folks inquire if I had hurt myself.

Yes, and it’s a long, boring, stupid story that I don’t want to repeat any longer.

Can any one say pass the peas please?

Icing as I type.

I am not in self-pity mode, but I am in antsy mode.

I have gotten two invites in the last week to go dancing, I haven’t been able to get on my bicycle, and I look at my scooter with a mixture or dread, awe, nervous excitement, and complete fear.

I want to ride again so bad.

But I don’t want to fuck up the ankle.

Add to that the saying good-bye to one of my charges in two weeks, looking for work, feeling exhausted thinking about that, but I do need to start hatching a plan of action, getting ready for Burning Man–I leave two weeks from today–getting asked to speak, a lot, and just normal get about and I could care less that it’s the weekend.

I don’t have much planned.

I want to try riding my bicycle again, maybe this time I will get to the end of the block instead of the end of the driveway.

I sound bitter.

I am just tired.

This too shall pass.

I will see folks tomorrow and checking in over coffee and tea always helps me get my perspective on and it helps get me out of myself and that’s always a great thing.

I don’t have anything new on the work front, so that can be addressed too.

I shall put out the word to the folks in my world and also work on the letter of reference my mom has asked me to write, I will write-up a draft, and she will add to it.

I am a little uncomfortable with this, but I know what to say and it’s not like I am going to be asking her to lie about what I do.

I can then e-mail all the moms in my network and dads too, and friends and just put it really out to the Universe.

I don’t have to get results from it, or I don’t have to get the results I want, I just have to take the action.

Yesterday I couldn’t get much further than responding affirmatively to a family that a friend put me in touch with.

When they didn’t respond to my e-mail, my head went to the dark side, and I thought, Jesus, let’s not go down that road, there is no good in that neighborhood.

So, I figure, a day’s response is no big deal, it’s never on my time, this timing thing, or my schedule, it’s on God’s, now I just have to take another action and another and another.

There is no particular one that will yield results.

I know what I need and I know how to ask for it, that’s the start.

Speaking of which, I have to do my spending plan for the month, especially now, my goal is to be able to pay September rent in the next two weeks.

I can do it.

I want to have it paid before Burning Man.

I just wrote the check for my scooter payment for the month, then there’s the phone, and I already took care of paying my Healthy San Francisco, so rent and phone, groceries, and that’s it.

Rent, in my mind, also includes utilities, since it is a set rate.

I have thought about asking for a break on the utilities since I was gone a week in July and I will be gone for three weeks, but I have not done so yet.

It’s a thought.

It’s all working out.

I will be fine.

I know the drill.

I just want it to be with an ankle that is fully recovered.

I miss my mobility and the time wasted on MUNI.

I have gotten used to getting up at 6:30 a.m. to do my morning routine and get to work, it’s often times, the getting back home that is harder, the trains not running as frequently, but then again, at least I am close to the train and so is my job.

The only day this week that I had to do transferring from train to bus was Thursday.

That’s not too bad.

And I worked extra this week and there’s extra money on my paycheck.

There’s a lot to be grateful for, which is what I will finish my whiny blog post with, some fucking gratitude.

Grateful that I was not the mumbling man who smelt of rotting potato vodka and a dirty ashtray dipped in dog shit on the train home.

Grateful I remembered I did not need to be held hostage by the swaying beer belly and got up and moved.  So it meant standing, at least I can stand.

Grateful that I have great references and faith in myself that I can and will find a great job.

Grateful I still have work, full-time work for the next month and a half, so much can happen in six weeks, it will be a brand new world and I won’t remember any of the ambivalence of being in the middle of the hallway.

Grateful for Saint Germaine de Pres on my music cube.

So grateful that my laptop still works.

Grateful that I get to go to New York for the first time ever in my life next month.

Grateful that rent is paid, I have a comfy bed to sleep in with fresh sheets and big fluffy pillows, that I can pay to ride MUNI home and that I am not sleeping outside in the fog and cold, and boy, it’s cold out here tonight, let me tell you.

Grateful for frozen peas, they feel great.

Grateful for all my friends and fellows who consistently show up for me in friendship and love and who help me whenever I am floundering.

Grateful for service, love, faith, getting to go to Burning Man, all my friends who are going this year, being of service, being of inspiration, writing in the morning, blogging at night, hot tea, nectarines from the Farmers Market, notebooks, good pens, Stumptown Holler Mountain coffee, fog, God, living in San Francisco.

Ah.

There.

See.

Everything is great and yay.

It’s the weekend.

Things change.

Things are going to be wonderful.

They already are.

The Lady Be Tired

June 12, 2014

I mean, all tuckered the fuck out.

Dude.

It was just a shower.

But as a friend retorted when I tried, I tried to turn down the offer of a shower chair, because yo, I ain’t 64, I don’t need no shower chair, I was able to do it, take the shower that is, “ Oh, right! A shower balancing on one foot every seven days seems reasonable”.

It seemed reasonable until she put it that way.

Damn Gina.

I was joking that I needed a nap after the gymnastics.

Gymnastics that did not include shaving my legs.

I mean it was a challenge getting in and out, I cannot imagine how I was going to shave those bad girls.  Not that I didn’t want to, oh, I want to, so much so, but I got soapy and washed my hair and shaved my armpits, and that felt.

OH GOD.

That felt good.

Ah.

I sat on the sink to dry my hair.

Fortunately it’s a shelf unit, not a pedestal sink, and I am tall, I didn’t have to hop up on it, just sort of settle one hip into it and swing the broke back, not really broken, ankle over the edge.

It looks super gross.

I took a closer look at it since crying like a broken doll in the doctor’s office.

“Shh, shh, it’s going to be ok,” the nurse patted my knee, “let’s get you an apple juice, that always makes my patients feel better.”

What am I five?

But the nurse was right, the juice did make me feel better.

I was wishing for another box of juice when I took further inspection of the ankle this morning.

My goodness.

The nurse said, the bruising is yellow and green, that’s good, last stages of the bruise.

Yeah, on that part of the foot she was indicating to, the top part of my foot, it’s not even my ankle and it’s bruised up, yellowish-green, the ankle itself, though, is black and darkly purple, swollen not just on the part that sustained the worst part of the sprain, but also on the other side, it is gross, I am not posting photos anywhere.  I just can’t bring myself to do it.

I mean I document a lot of my life on this blog, but I am loath to go there.

REALLY.

I guess I am a little queasy about it.

I was happy though to get in the shower and glad I had gotten up an hour before the alarm was going off, I had set it early in anticipation of taking the shower.

I was to be whisked away from the homestead for a matinée this afternoon.

When was the last time I went to a matinée?

I was dating J.B. and it was oh gosh, seven years ago?

I don’t recall why I wasn’t working that day, it was a week day too, but I was not, and we went and watched the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe at the AMC Van Ness theater.

Wow.

I had forgotten about that.

I was trying to think in the theater when the last time I had been to the movies was, it’s been awhile just for that and I am still drawing a blank, but I must have gone to one sometime in this past year.

Anyway.

I gave myself extra time and I used it all up.

Just doing the basic stuff is not so basic.

It takes five, six times longer, I get so tired so fast.

I have to sit down and once I am down I want to stay down.

But I got out and my friend was so lovely and sweet, she got me to the bank to deposit a work check from my one day a week gig on Thursdays that, since the accident happened on last Thursday, I had not had the opportunity to cash.

She got me groceries and toiletries and took me to the movies.

I cried in front of her twice and three times when she was in the stores and went to get us coffees.

It is so hard to accept gifts, help, humility, to not be fully self-sufficient, is such a challenge.

But I surrendered.

Frankly, I was just too tired not to.

“I will play this forward, I will,” I said out loud in the car, shifting my booted foot to offset the pressure and the pain of the ankle.

And I will.

And I just have to continue surrendering.

To the financial insecurity.

To the fear.

To the solutions that people put in front of me.

I took a few small actions toward that end today.

I contacted my student loan service and asked for a few months of forbearance on my loan until I am back on my feet.

I checked out the San Francisco Disability web site, but to be honest, I got overwhelmed and shut it down.

Then I said yes to a job, a tiny, teeny, ain’t gonna be much, $10/hr, oh sweet Jesus, yes, let me have seconds on the humility, pass the peas too (the frozen ones draped over my ankle will do just fine) to do some data entry.

But hey, it’s something and I am helping the person out and I know it and it’s what the place can pay me.

I wasn’t looking for the work, but when I was asked, it was mostly because they need a service person and well, he could see I am going to be laid up for a bit, I can do the service.

It’s a pittance and that’s ok.

The service is crucial to the place that is asking and I am willing to help out while I am on the down and out and I am sure there are more lessons to be learned from all of this.

I am being taken care of.

And tomorrow, who knows, maybe I’ll even get a shower chair.

I am no longer above accepting the help.

I would be an idiot not to.

I am many things, but I am not an idiot.

Tired.

Frustrated.

Scared.

But not an idiot.

And underneath all of it, really, I do have faith.

There is a reason for this and there are great gifts to be had, if I will allow myself to accept them, that is.

I accept, gratefully.

I do.

Thank you, everyone, for helping me.

I couldn’t do it without out you.

Believe me, I have tried.

But there’s only so long I can balance on one foot.

 

Taking It Easy

May 11, 2014

Going slow.

Riding the MUNI.

Sigh.

Although I did also ride my bicycle today, I had to be somewhere by 12:15p.m. and felt no desire to hop the train and the leg seemed not too bad, sore yes, but not too bad.

It appears that it also is ok in one direction and absolutely terror in another.

I can bicycle.

Thank God.

I was a bit concerned about being able to bicycle.

But as I pointed out to the woman I met with today, I am so glad for my strong bicycle thighs, I have a lot of muscle there from years and years of riding, and had I not, who knows, I might have broken my leg.

I certainly would have sustained a worse injury, I have no doubt.

I can pedal though and pedal I did up Lincoln Ave to 7th and Irving and hung out at Tart a to Tart getting more perspective on slowly down, see what happens when I go to fast, and people pleasing.

“Oh, that’s what I heard,” she said to me, “as soon as you started talking about the security guard, you got rushed, you were people pleasing, instead of slowing down and pausing and seeing what happens next.”

Yup.

I literally jumped to do something faster, beyond my level of experience, to accommodate someone elses needs.

One would think that after years and years and oh hell, decades, of doing this, I would have learned.

The lesson is to slow down and look to my needs first.

Because I am not going to do anyone any good if I splat on the open road trying to get myself out there faster.

Slow down.

Pause.

Breathe.

Take it easy.

I did that pretty well today, I think, anyway.

I only went to one grocery store.

I didn’t cook, although I got the ingredients to make a meal, I ended up keeping things real basic and easy.

I read my library book.

I drank tea sitting on the chaise lounge.

I flipped through a couple of magazines.

I realized I was feeling pretty punked out and between the leg and the adrenalin that I am sure I had racing through my body last night, but did not acknowledge, I was a bit beat down.

So I took MUNI today and I got a ride home tonight.

I almost felt like not blogging, but there is no need to drift into self-pity land.

Not when I spent some time tonight with my friend down the block who has been in a cast for nearly two months, comes off on Wednesday, a little ego puncturing and muscle bruising are nothing in comparison to what he’s been dealing with.

That being said, I can’t deny I was worn out by the day that wasn’t exactly exhausting and the only thing I have to contribute to the idea of being weary is the accident last night.

I am the type of person who is rarely sick and I have to be pretty pummelled to be down for the count.

Not sure if that means that I hurt my leg worse than I thought or that my sense of what happened is making it appear less traumatic than it was.

I suppose that I don’t have to know why.

I can just honor that I am a little tuckered out.

I also did make the call to the scooter mechanic my friend who sold me the Vespa has taken her to, so I will go in Wednesday with the scooter and hopefully have it back by Friday.

I have a tiny bit of trepidation about riding it, but I think I will be fine.

I will get up and on it early on Wednesday and just double, triple check everything, ride it to work, then take it up to Lower Nob Hill, or the Tender Nob as I like to call it (the little strip of streets that belt the crazy of the Tenderloin to the affluence of Nob Hill) to have it checked out.

My friend’s salon is up there too.

I am thinking time to pop in for a cut and color.

I will call them tomorrow and see if I can get that in as well, or at least get it set up.

I am hoping the cost of the repair is not much and wondering about looking into my insurance and seeing if they will cover any of it.

I just got all the paper work last week from them and to my eye it’s a bunch of gobbledy gook. I may need to call my agent and ask what the proper way to proceed is.

Anyway, all stuff that I don’t have to think about too much tonight.

Tonight is just about done.

I am just about done.

Sipping some tea and watching a snippet of a video, then heading off to bed.

Tomorrow I am going to give my friend a hand with a few things, do a little more grocery shopping, cook some soup, and maybe walk down to the beach.

I have no concrete plans.

Resting the leg seems the thing to do.

Outside of that, reading in the sunshine in the back yard sounds like a nice thing to do.

And thinking about all the nice summer plans I have–Lighting in a Bottle over Memorial Day weekend, going to Wisconsin in July, and Burning Man in August–it’s going to be a full summer of fun.

Last summer I was so stressed trying to rebuild my life after Paris, I don’t think I enjoyed much of it, I just kept myself busy trying to make ends meet and put my life back together.

This year, I think I get to take it easy, have a fun summer, a beach summer, a swim in the lake summer, a go to Burning Man summer, go camping summer, chill out summer, like a real summer vacation kind of summer.

Now, say summer seven times fast.

Whew.

Slowing down.

Winding down.

Taking it easy.

I can do that.

And I don’t need to break my leg to do it either.

 


%d bloggers like this: