Isn’t there some kind of proverb about the cure being worse than the disease?  Yeah.  The anti-allergy stuff the doctor put me on made it possible for me to breathe, which is wonderful, but all weekend I was alternately completely out of it/loopy and nervously jittery.  I have no idea how I danced Saturday night (though it was wonderful to be able to breathe well enough to dance at all).  I wore one of my backwards shirts, and got a compliment from a very unexpected source!  A guy I’ve long written off as a good-looking, great-dancing jerk (he’s known for occasionally humiliating beginning dancers) told me that my shirt was cute, and then later asked me to dance.  This is only the second time I’ve danced with him in almost two years of sharing the same dancing scene, and possibly the first time he’s actually been nice to me.

The worst, though, was Sunday morning.  I was heading into Emmanuel for Mass, took a wrong step off the curb, felt my ankle give underneath me, and ended up sprawled on my back in the street, my left ankle sending Red Alert signals, and most of the skin ripped off my right knee.  I crawled to the curb and sat there, letting the nausea and the cold sweats pass over me, for a while.  Pretty soon a nice man came and started wanting to help.  Other people going into church stopped too, and before long I had a nice collection of Good Samaritans eager to do something, anything for me (mostly I wanted them to leave me alone so I could concentrate on not throwing up or passing out).  They brought ice for the ankle and a wet paper towel to clean off the knee.  One of them was a doctor, who felt the ankle and said that nothing was broken.  They brought me a folding chair so I wasn’t sitting on the ground anymore (I had kind of liked it on the ground), and large Band-Aids to cover the bleeding knee so I wouldn’t get blood on my skirt.  After a while the faintness passed enough that I could try putting weight on my ankle.  I discovered that I could walk, and one of the men (actually my sisters’ across-the-street neighbor) helped me back to my car.  I sat there for a little bit, then drove over to Liv’s, and limped inside.  She got me ice and ibuprofen, and water to clean the knee, and finally I got to hold still.

Today I am grateful for the kindness of strangers, and that I had Liv to go to.  It’s been a long time since I had someone to take care of me.  I’m still marvelling at it.

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