Tonight I was on the light-rail, and was just about to disembark, when out of the corner of my eye, I saw a very nice looking, well dressed gentleman. In a sudden fit of womanly pride, I decided "I don't need to hold on to any stinking banister!" So, without doing what I normally do - cling to the banister and lower myself out of the damned train, much in the same manner as the Sir Edmund Hillary ascending Mount Everest. I'm not exaggerating here - mountain sheep have broken their necks climbing down out of the light rail train. Really sad too - the ones left behind bleat for days.
Where was I? Right - no hand rails for an agile, nubile, young thing like moi! Results? I plunged down the stairs, landed my foot and practically dislocated my left knee - OUCH.
I yelped. The nice looking, well dressed gentleman had also come off the tram. He saw me grimmacing in pain and said, 'Don't you hate when that happens?' He then smiled and purposefully strode off to his car, leaving me standing there, afraid to put any weight on my left knee - #$&% gentleman.
Long story short, I crept back to my car, saying every word of my increasingly extensive of swear word collection. I hate it when my primitive, girly brain stem clicks on, causing me to do STUPID things to prove my I am a limber, young thing and don't we all know that ceased to be true about 20 years ago - Ok, 25 years ago. Oh shut UP. 
Anyway, when I managed to get home I was totally chock full of self pity. Me - single, alone in my ikle house, hobbling about trying to take off my shoes and bring in the mail - pathetic. I wound up sitting on the couch, bemoaning my lost youth. The phone rang.
It was my friend Diane from Yakima Washington. On the way to the bus stop two days earlier, she slipped on ice, that was buried under a layer of new-fallen snow. She couldn't stand so she pulled herself up onto a snow drift and waved down a passing car, the driver of which phoned for an ambulance.
Diane was calling me from a recovery ward of a hospital. She had broken her femur (the thigh bone), had to have the bone operated on. It was such a bad break she had taken EIGHT PINTS of blood! Our bodies only hold ten pints of blood! I was horrified - I mean, she'd bled internally and had she fallen where no one passed, she could have gone into shock or she could have bled to death. Anyway, bottom line, here I was, brooded over my sprained knee, only to hear about Diane's temporary debilitation and hospitalization.
Diane was calling me from a recovery ward of a hospital. She had broken her femur (the thigh bone), had to have the bone operated on. It was such a bad break she had taken EIGHT PINTS of blood! Our bodies only hold ten pints of blood! I was horrified - I mean, she'd bled internally and had she fallen where no one passed, she could have gone into shock or she could have bled to death. Anyway, bottom line, here I was, brooded over my sprained knee, only to hear about Diane's temporary debilitation and hospitalization.
Knee problems? Me? Uh...no, not really.
UPDATE: Diane is doing well. She had 60 stitches from the operation and will be at the rehab facility recovering and having physical therapy for six to eight weeks! She said she decided she is NOT in rehab, but is instead at a really cool spa. I had a glass of wine tonight and toasted Di's 60 stitches and her spunk. Way to go Diane! *slurp*
