crutches are good for more than you think...

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Poking kilometres

Tripping kilometres

why do the good ones always move away?

This weekend was a pretty sad one. No, not because I was stuck inside on the couch with a sore knee and sore hands (stupid crutches) when it finally decided to be beautiful and spring-like outside (although that was kind of sucky). No, instead the sadness was because Other Me, Mr. C, and Bru-dog, moved away to PEI on Saturday. I’m still in denial, I’m not going to lie, so it hasn’t quite hit me yet that they are gone. It is starting to sink in though...there was a moment on Sunday where km, Chaz, and I were going out for gelato and I thought, “We should call Other Me and Mr. C, they would totally be down for gelato!” only to then remember they were no longer around. Sigh.

People as good as Other Me and Mr. C don’t come along very often. And, while I’m happy that they will still be in my life, even if only from afar, I am profoundly sad that I won’t be able to hang out with them on a regular basis anymore. They made life so much more fun and rich in all kinds of subtle ways and I loved that they were always up for anything…I keep wondering if there’s some way I can convince them to move back… Double sigh.

So best of luck in PEI, you crazy kids—everyone there is so lucky to have you. Please come back and visit soon…we’ll be out your way as soon as we can.

Here we are with bellies full of all-you-can eat sushi. From left to right: Papa Other Me, Momma Other Me, Mr. C, Chaz, Secret Weapon, Moi and Crutchy McCrutcherson, Other Me, and KM (aka: Chrisopher, Male).

Some mandatory zombie action. I'm not sure what's going on with my face there, but I'm going to blame my knee because that seems like the right thing to do.

Ever the performer, Bru-dog (my most entertaining nephew) decided to “kill” this old racquet (he usually kills a stool, but that had already been packed away, so he had to get creative). Oh how I’m going to miss his crazy Bru-tricks. *sniff*

for km...

Dear Kilometres,

Best of luck on your comps. I know you’re going to kick some serious ass! Please know that I’m thinking about you and sending positive comps-vibes your way.


bag marla

not so stealth-like...

I’ve found a lot of interesting ways to hurt myself in my day. I mean, how many people to you know who have thrown out their back while hiccupping, strained their neck while putting on a sports bra, and destroyed their knee (again) while playing a friendly game of kickball? Gooooooo me!

I have to say, though, of all the stupid ways I’ve hurt myself, Tuesday’s injury takes the cake.

Tuesdays are typically pretty crazy for me (I usually work at least 11 hours, if not more), and last Tuesday was exceptionally busy, with something ridiculous like 4 back-to-back meetings. During one of the aforementioned meetings, I decided I should sneak out a little early, so as not to be late for my 3:30. I was doing pretty good, not being too disruptive…I didn’t run into a chair or slam my bag into the back of someone’s head…I was just flying out of that meeting, I tells ya! I was flying, that is, until I got out the door. Because once I got out the door my right knee decided it would have no more of the walking and proceeded to give out on me. Now, those who know me know that I have pretty terrible knees that give out on occasion, but it’s never anything too serious. Usually it just hurts for a little while and I can walk it off and get on with my day. This was not one of those times, however.

This time my knee meant business. It meant so much business that, in giving out, it made a noise loud enough for EVERYONE in the meeting to hear. It also meant so much business that it kept slipping out every time I tried to step on it after it went out. The thing was, I was in so much shock that I didn’t really understand what was going on. So there I was, standing in the doorway, everyone from the meeting looking at me, wondering what was responsible for the crazy noise they had just heard, while I was repeatedly trying to take steps with a leg whose knee was refusing to support any weight what-so-ever. It wasn’t until one of the front desk staff asked if I was ok that I realized I wasn’t, so I hopped over to a chair in the Tuck Shop and started realizing just how hurt I really was. Of course, everyone filed out of the meeting to see what had happened. Everyone had their theory as to how I was able to injure myself so terribly while leaving the meeting… Had I rolled over on my heel? Had I banged my knee on the door? Had I somehow twisted my knee when I stepped (surely that must have been it!)? No, no, and no. I had nothing to tell them. I had blown out my knee simply by walking. No, turning, no twisting, no banging, no rolling. Now that’s talent, my friends!

So everyone at the Community Centre was great and stopped what they were doing to help me out. I think because they all heard the noise they felt invested in the injury—I mean, they were going to have to live with the haunting sound of bone grinding on bone, after all. They helped me with the forms and paperwork (good, old workplace injuries), got me ice, got me my purse so I could drug myself up, and called Chaz to take me to the Urgent Care Clinic. The fine folks from the Seniors’ Day Program even hooked me up with a wheelchair (who knew that wheelchair access would be one of the perks of working at a senior’s centre?) so I could get to the clinic. So much love!

So I got to the clinic right before it closed and was able to see a doctor pretty quickly. He wasn’t sure what was wrong (surprise! no one ever seems to know with knees), but guessed maybe some loose cartilage was the culprit. He filled out my paperwork for me, prescribed some anti-inflammatories/painkillers, and referred me to another doctor (the real reason for my visit…I knew he wouldn’t be able to tell me what was wrong) and sent me on my way.

So the next day I called the sports medicine clinic the doctor referred me to so I could make an appointment to see another doctor for follow-up (and because the pain was pretty excruciating, I was pretty worried and wanted to see what another doctor had to say about me hurting myself so severely while walking). Everything was going well on the phone—we had found a time that worked and everything seemed good to go. Then the receptionist ever so casually asked me whether or not this was a workplace injury (WSIB). I told her I wasn’t sure because it happened at work, but that didn’t necessarily mean that it would be covered by WSBI so I had to wait and see if they approved the injury or not. It was at this point where she stopped being so friendly and helpful. I was informed that the clinic did not accept WSIB cases, so I would have to see a doctor somewhere else. I was a little taken aback, as I sure wasn’t expecting to be turned away from the clinic I was referred to. I asked her what I was supposed to do (I needed to see a doctor after all) and she gave me the name of another clinic. I was a little sceptical that I could just randomly call this place up and make an appointment without a referral, but the woman on the phone assured me I could.

So I called the second clinic and explained my situation to the receptionist. She explained to me that they did indeed accept WSIB claims however, I could not make an appointment with one of their doctors unless I had been referred by my family doctor. I explained that I didn’t have a family doctor in the city and she basically told me I was SOL. I asked her if she knew what I could do and, because I’m sure she was sick of talking to me, she passed me off to their WSIB worker.

The WSIB worker didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know (the take-home message was the same: I could not see a doctor without a referral), but I did learn that they would accept a referral from an Urgent Care clinic doctor and not just a family doctor, so that felt like some progress.

So basically now I get to play the waiting game to see if my injury is a WSIB case or not. If it’s not, I can go a head with the referral I already have and if it is, I will have to go back to the Urgent Care clinic so that I can be referred to a clinic that accepts WSIB cases. How silly is that? I mean, I understand why referrals are important, but I have a slip of paper that says a practicing doctor thinks I need to see another doctor with more expertise in the area of sports injuries (walking’s a sport, didn’t you know?) for a follow-up appointment, so why does this need to be so difficult? Thank goodness I’ve had so many knee injuries in the past that I have a really good sense of what I need to do to get my knee moving again while I’m waiting for all of this to get sorted out or else I’d be in some serious trouble. The longer you wait to get things working again, the harder it is.

So, if anyone has some connections with the local WSIB peeps, can you put in a good word for me? I don’t really care what they decide, just so long as they make up their mind either way ASAP. I’ve got rehab to do!