Five days before we were set to leave for Las Vegas, Kyle started limping.
“My Achilles’ is bothering me,” he said, wincing.
“How about some ice?” I asked.
“No,” he said.
“How about some heat?” I asked.
“No,” he said.
“How about some rest?” I asked.
“No,” he said.
“How about a doctor?” I asked.
“No,” he said.
The next day, he had devised a solution.
“I’m going to go play hockey tonight,” he said. “I think I just need to stretch it out.”
“Maybe instead of hockey, you should try resting it first,” I said.
“No,” he said.
An hour later, I was sitting on the couch – I’m EXCELLENT at resting my body parts – when Kyle returned, nursing his left forearm.
“I think I broke my arm,” he said.
“How about going to the doctor?” I asked.
“Okay,” he said. And then,
“My Achilles’ feels much better.”
“Terrific,” I said.
Lo and behold, his Achilles’ had actually and miraculously healed itself. Also, he had broken his elbow. Fortunately for both our trip and Kyle, he didn’t require surgery, and didn’t need a cast. The doctor’s instructions were simple: wear the sling, work the arm a few times a day, and don’t lift anything high or heavy.
That last rule has been a real problem for me because it turns out I’ve become pretty dependent on Kyle having two working arms.
Here’s an example:
Before we left for Vegas, I decided that we would share one giant suitcase instead of taking two smaller ones because I figured Kyle would appreciate having one free usable arm to protect himself from tripping and breaking another elbow. This was a good plan in theory but less so in practice, as I am both short and only able to lift something above 50 pounds if I’m carrying it on my back and it’s the same size, shape and grippiness as my children. Our enormous suitcase weighed exactly 50 pounds (we were nothing if not prepared for every outfit-related vacation scenario), and was so tall that I couldn’t hold the handle on the top while also gripping onto the bottom. This meant that in order to get it into a vehicle, I had to squat on the ground and use my shoulder as support. (In hindsight, I’m sure there was a better way to do this, but when I got married I not only stopped dating other men, I also stopped putting suitcases in cars.) Las Vegas (and Kyle) will forever be changed with the memory of a small, sweaty Jewish girl hoisting a suitcase into an Uber like Atlas with his globe.
Here’s another example:
We have a number of items at our house that are above my eye level, but it’s never been that big of a deal because I’m married to the human version of one of those grabber things. Except that now that grabber can only reach with one arm. As luck would have it, all three of the light bulbs in our walk-in pantry burned out simultaneously, and the only person in our family who is both allowed to climb a ladder and has two available hands to twist open the light fixture and pull out the bulbs is this girl right here. Which means that I have spent the last week using my cell phone as a flashlight to get the canned peas because the only time I remember I need to change the bulbs is when I’m in the middle of cooking something or typing this story and am otherwise indisposed.
The whole thing has been so much work that I’ve taken to “jokingly” asking all of our male friends to do things for me. Just the other day, I tripped and one of those friends caught me.
“You have really strong forearms,” I said. “Can you come over later and help me with something ha ha?”
Then, after he looked really nervous and I realized he thought I was suggesting he come over and “help me with something” untoward, I said,
“No, no, I need you to move a table.” And then he looked REALLY nervous and walked away. Now not only do I no longer have a friend, that table is still unmoved.
Kyle feels badly that I am apparently incompetent at life’s simple activities, and so he’s been sneaking around trying to do things to help me out, like fold sheets out of the dryer or move tables. This means I’ve had to not only do extra stuff – like LIFT SUITCASES OUT OF THE CAR AND CHANGE LIGHT BULBS – but I’ve had to anticipate his every move so as to ward him off. We recently attended a hockey tournament in Fargo, and I was forced to wake up early because Kyle thought he’d surreptitiously put our son’s goalie bag (which is the equivalent weight and floppiness as an adult body bag) into the car. After he was caught, he pretended to walk away and instead slipped out of the room with two heavy coolers.
We’re a few weeks away from the arbitrary “healed” date set by the doctor, and I’m marking the minutes off like a person would on a prison wall. In the meantime, I’ve ordered a ramp to get things from the ground into the trunk of my car.
The photo above is of Kyle on vacation in Las Vegas. You would not be surprised to hear that a great many people asked him what happened to his arm. You would also not be surprised to hear that every single one of them was incredibly, deeply disappointed that it didn’t happen to him in Vegas.
This week’s news has a neighborhood greeter, an annual block party, and the Babe Ruth World Series. Read on.
In North Dakotaish news, the FM Legion riders honored Moorhead’s John Cunningham, who is best known for sitting outside his building waving to passersby. (KFYR TV)
The entire community of Jamestown throws an annual block party in order to welcome University of Jamestown students back to school. (Jamestown Sun)
Dr. Richard Faidley, the superintendent of the Williston Basin School District, goes around to all of the local and rural schools and says hello at the start of the school year. (KFYR TV)
Fort Yates now has a new mural thanks to group of Denver-based and local artists. (KFYR TV)
Speaking of murals, Fargo’s Lauren Starling has brought the world of Mario to the downtown. (Valley News Live)
Williston was the hot spot of baseball after hosting 48,000 people for the Babe Ruth World Series. (KFYR TV)
Finger’s crossed, it’s looking like it’s going to be a pretty successful year for North Dakota’s farmers. (Facebook)
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