A bit neglected and sad, but still growing and waiting to go outside.
I sit here, a week post-knee-repair-surgery, gazing at my plants that are overgrowing their pots.
Imagining the disaster of overgrown weeds in the garden and greenhouse.
Itching to be in the soil, making things grow.
All thanks to a single squirrel. Ok, Storm, the Husky, is probably 70% at fault.
See, about 3 weeks ago we were on our evening walk, both dogs and I, and after about a kilometer (that’s .6 of a mile for the American folks), a squirrel ran down a tree off to our left, stood in the ditch, and started yelling at Storm. Being a Husky (actually a husky/german shepherd mix), she was NOT going to let that insult stand. Also, being a husky, Storm has absolutely insane hyper-focus that a nuclear detonation wouldn’t break – recall happens on her time, no one else’s. Husky owners are chuckling here. You know.I have a 10m (30f) retractable lead for Storm, to give her lots and lots of room to sniff all the things (remember, we are very, very rural on a wide dirt road). It’s always been more than sufficient, she almost never wants to go to the end of the lead. But that squirrel…
The culprit, Storm
So she goes full speed after it, which prompts Roscoe, our mastiff cross puppy, to follow.
Storm has been clocked at 40km/h. Their combined weight is about 150lbs. I don’t weigh all that much more.
What I should have done was drop the lead, like I’ve done in the past with shorter leads, but it just happened too quick. I got pulled off my feet, and I imagine it looked very Looney Toons like. I twisted, to land on my left side instead of my front, and that’s when it all went wrong. My, apparently stupid, right foot didn’t get the message that “we’re turning now!” and just stayed in place like a dummy Coyote waiting for the anvil to drop.
I hear and feel a couple pops and some crunching from my right knee, then I find myself on the ground, being dragged into the ditch (still wet with nasty winter melt), panic because my knee is on fire. Storm finally stops at the base of the tree that the squirrel wisely scampered up, just as I’m starting to get damp from standing water.
Can’t move my knee, lots of pain. My brain, for whatever ridiculous reason, wouldn’t let me drop the leads, so when I go to my pocket for my phone and realized it dropped, I made the struggle extra fun and dragged myself, pulling on the dogs, around to find it (thankfully only a couple feet back).
I always thought I’d be one to survive a zombie apocalypse, but I think my dogs would get my killed the first day.
So I call my husband – thankfully this was the evening walk so he was home from work – and get rescued. Both dogs completely oblivious to the chaos they’ve caused, they run up to the truck, squirrel forgotten.
He’s able to help me to my feet and I find I can carefully limp on it – relief! – maybe it’s not that bad.
But it was. I went to outpatient the next morning, a Sunday. They gave me a brace and sent in a requisition for an MRI. I had to make sure my clients (I’m a Home Support Worker for disabled and elderly) had someone else to care for them while I’m out (so grateful to my boss and coworkers), thinking I just need to rest for a week or two. Then, I had the MRI and found out the right MCL, the inner knee ligament that connects the femur to the tibia (thigh to calf bones), completely tore in half and made my knee ridiculously unstable, and the meniscus (the cartilage between the knee joints) had some tearing as well. Surgery was done a week later, and now I’m 8 days post-op, completely reliant on crutches.
And let me tell you, I am not graceful on crutches. I’ve almost tripped and fallen so many times, just on smooth indoor flooring. I haven’t stepped outside in 8 days and I’m learning what cabin fever looks like. We’re hoping – since it’s still at least 2 weeks to the last frost day, that I’ll be up to carefully hobbling around outside in a couple weeks and can direct the prep work for the garden and greenhouse.
Through all this – I am so incredibly grateful to the Canadian healthcare system for not only taking care of me, but all the care is paid for through our taxes. No huge bills, co-pays, or debt. Wait, I owe the hospital $12 for the crutches. My extra coverage from work will probably cover that.
Ode to a Gardener’s Knee
O faithful joint, once strong and spry,
You bent with grace beneath the sky—
In morning’s light, through dirt and dew,
You bore me forth where our food grew.
Now bandaged still, you throb and sigh,
While the seedlings grow and weeds run high.
My spade lies cold, my gloves unused,
The beds I shaped now look confused.
How swift the fall, how sharp the pain,
That cleft me from my earthen lane.
No herbs to trim, no mulch to spread,
I sit and dream the work instead.
Yet though I rest in still repose,
I feel the pull where garden grows.
And vow, when flesh and bone are mended,
To tend again what lies untended.
So heal, dear knee, and bide thy time,
For roots await and vines will climb—
And I, once more, shall stoop and sow,
With grateful steps and gentler toe.
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