Accidents....happen on the train*
Melbourne-ites will remember the massive rainfall in our dear, sweet city on Thursday morning. It was glorious if you are a farmer (not many of those in the inner city, unless you mean those kind of farmers). If you are a commuter with no umbrella, it was not so pleasant.
I was wearing that day, my fabulous red leather, inch-heel mary-jane style shoes. I bought them about six years ago and they are wonderful. Even though they are red, they go with pretty much everything, and because the heel isn't too high, you can run in them (if you feel so inclined).
On Thursday however, these shoes were my undoing.
In the rain, I jogged (carefully) along the path towards Rushall Station and then walked into the underpass thinking there was a slight possibility I could make the train that was pulling into the station.
A second later I was on the ground in intense pain. Somehow (I'm still not sure exactly what happened) I slipped and landed with full force on my left knee. I investigated it very cursorily, then got to my feet with a few sobs and groans** and limped my way up to the station.
By this stage I was prepared to miss the train, that way I could sit down and have a good old bawl. But no, through my choked grizzling while purchasing a ticket and the validation of same, the train did not move. I was therefore obliged to get on it. And even more, obliged to pull myself together, you know, for the benefit of the other commuters.
As the train crawled towards the city I could feel blood running down my leg, but as I was wearing a skirt that fell below my knee, I decided not to inspect the wound until I had arrived at work and could make a full diagnosis.
The minute I walked into the office, I flipped the bottom hem of my skirt up and said to my co-worker, "Hey, check this out, I have hurt my knee really badly!"
Sadly, we will now have to find some money in the OH&S budget to provide her with counselling, as there was a large flap of skin hanging off my knee, badly ripped tights and an unnerving amount of blood.
Because she is a complete legend, she immediately volunteered to run to the chemist and provide me with antiseptic, enormous plasters and a new pair of tights. She is indeed a rock star***.
However, the net result has been a hobble in my step for the past three days that is extraordinarily irritating and somewhat painful.
It's not surprising to me to learn there is no way to get a three-year-old to remember not to touch you on the knee, although it is painful.
Further, the "modesty panels" on desks and most table legs are really stupidly placed if you have an injured leg.
And also, Dettol now exists in a formula that doesn't sting.
HOW DO I KNOW IT IS WORKING IF IT DOESN'T HURT?
HAVE GENERATIONS OF PARENTS BEEN UNNECCESSARILY TORTURING THEIR CHILDREN?
Probably.
* with apologies to Deborah Conway.
** A note to the two passers-by who didn't even ask how I was, may you develop UNFORTUNATE FACIAL SORES on an OCCASION THAT IS IMPORTANT TO YOU.
***Merely a turn of phrase, although I'm sure that if she chose to, she would be an excellent rock star.
I was wearing that day, my fabulous red leather, inch-heel mary-jane style shoes. I bought them about six years ago and they are wonderful. Even though they are red, they go with pretty much everything, and because the heel isn't too high, you can run in them (if you feel so inclined).
On Thursday however, these shoes were my undoing.
In the rain, I jogged (carefully) along the path towards Rushall Station and then walked into the underpass thinking there was a slight possibility I could make the train that was pulling into the station.
A second later I was on the ground in intense pain. Somehow (I'm still not sure exactly what happened) I slipped and landed with full force on my left knee. I investigated it very cursorily, then got to my feet with a few sobs and groans** and limped my way up to the station.
By this stage I was prepared to miss the train, that way I could sit down and have a good old bawl. But no, through my choked grizzling while purchasing a ticket and the validation of same, the train did not move. I was therefore obliged to get on it. And even more, obliged to pull myself together, you know, for the benefit of the other commuters.
As the train crawled towards the city I could feel blood running down my leg, but as I was wearing a skirt that fell below my knee, I decided not to inspect the wound until I had arrived at work and could make a full diagnosis.
The minute I walked into the office, I flipped the bottom hem of my skirt up and said to my co-worker, "Hey, check this out, I have hurt my knee really badly!"
Sadly, we will now have to find some money in the OH&S budget to provide her with counselling, as there was a large flap of skin hanging off my knee, badly ripped tights and an unnerving amount of blood.
Because she is a complete legend, she immediately volunteered to run to the chemist and provide me with antiseptic, enormous plasters and a new pair of tights. She is indeed a rock star***.
However, the net result has been a hobble in my step for the past three days that is extraordinarily irritating and somewhat painful.
It's not surprising to me to learn there is no way to get a three-year-old to remember not to touch you on the knee, although it is painful.
Further, the "modesty panels" on desks and most table legs are really stupidly placed if you have an injured leg.
And also, Dettol now exists in a formula that doesn't sting.
HOW DO I KNOW IT IS WORKING IF IT DOESN'T HURT?
HAVE GENERATIONS OF PARENTS BEEN UNNECCESSARILY TORTURING THEIR CHILDREN?
Probably.
* with apologies to Deborah Conway.
** A note to the two passers-by who didn't even ask how I was, may you develop UNFORTUNATE FACIAL SORES on an OCCASION THAT IS IMPORTANT TO YOU.
***Merely a turn of phrase, although I'm sure that if she chose to, she would be an excellent rock star.
posted by gigglewick at
2:51 pm
6 Comments:
My god that is awful, you poor thing! Hope your knee gets better soon - at least you didn't faint ;)
Sorry to hear about your knee. I fell over running for a train a few weeks ago, but I landed on my head so no lasting damage there.
Yes, I'm pretty sure it looked as uncoordinated as that sounds.
If you want to stop Grizzlewick from touching your knee, perhaps you could tape some sort of green vegetable to it?
An unhappy story. Sorry to hear it. Did this occur the same day as your job offer? Perhaps there's some correlation between train-catching-involved grievous bodily injury and career advancement. Oh no, I'm Not Craig tried that and he tells us it hasn't worked for him so far. Scratch that.
This is surely a lesson for all those who wander about whenever there is a shower storm saying things like “it's good to see some rain again” and “I woke up to the sound of rain on the roof and it was lovely…” Learn from this story people! Rain is dangerous! Embrace the drought for your own protection.
( Vegetables! I laughed at that :) )
Yah, I can comment, I can comment, I can comment. Am doing the happy commenting dance as I type (well, almost).
Onto more serious things - this is no good. Take care of yourself. I think this calls for lots of tea or wine, or both.
And they make Dettol without a sting. What will those crazy scientists think of next.
Goes back to "I can comment" dance
Oh, ouch! Poor chook! If it makes you feel any better, I once feel onto a train. I tripped at the door and sprawled on the floor, surrounded by two bags of vegetables. Everyone just looked at me as though I were a flying cockroach that had had the poor grace to land in the potato salad at a barbecue. A pox on all their houses. There's really nothing like adding insult to injury, is there? Not that I wanted anyone to make a fuss and treat me like a nanna, but it would have been nice if Hugh Laurie had appeared from nowhere and at least offered to pick up me and my broccoli...
Pomgirl et al, Thanks - yes it's starting to feel better, and there's scabs-a-go-go* I haven't had since a kid, so that's pretty exciting.
INCraig, Don't want to scar the poor chook for life. Oh your poor head - I take these things very seriously, there is nothing funny about accidents on public transport (at least, not yet).
Harpo, no I don't think there's any correlation between that and the job, although on the other hand, it impede my ability to do the happy dance.
Ms Batville, my sister who is living with us at the moment may have in fact suggested that Mr Fix and I are in fact alcoholics, although I blame her for bringing all that duty-free alcohol into my house.
Redcap, as long as Hugh Laurie was Prince George, not Dr House...I have a feeling Dr House would not be much use with a sore leg, he'd just bitch about his and probably kick you. I once got caught in a tram door and let out a very undignified yelp/"HEEEYYYY!" that didn't do much for my reputation with fellow commuters. I've also fallen UP stairs and DOWN stairs...my coordination is not exactly renowned throughout the land.
Hey, does anyone else feel like Blogger's entreaty to "choose an identity" would be really appealing if offered in real life? I think today I'll choose "Grumpy not-interested-in-horse-racing-unless-I-win-the-sweep codger".
* I almost wrote "scabalicious", but then I decided that was too gross, even for me.
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