I was trampolining with E tonight, having a grand old time, when I landed funny. My knee felt like it bent backwards a bit, and I think I heard a pop. I probably yelled when it happened, because I had E standing over me, asking if I was okay; I said the only thing there is to say in these circumstances.
“No. I’m not okay. Get Abba… and an ice pack.”
She’s so great, this kid. She went and got Mr. December and then went to bring me cushions to elevate my leg, an ice pack wrapped in a towel, and Advil. She found two out of three of those items.
I think I had it on ice for about twenty minutes before I got up and hobbled—with Mr. December’s help—back into the house. Now I’m on the comfy couch with my leg elevated. It’s aching, but I’m hoping like crazy that it’s not badly damaged. What are the chances I’ll wake up in the morning feeling mostly okay?