Maybe I spoke too soon...

...when I mentioned about the "falling and can't get up" yesterday.. I had no idea...
This afternoon, my sister gave me a brief call about our dad... he is battling Breast Cancer, and isn't doing so hot. It suprises me when I hear those things, because I'm far away and my mind's eye only sees him how he was when we visited there last January. He looked & acted like his normal self. It's easy to be in denial & just not think about it when you aren't around things like that every day.
I went to the commissary and PX just after the phone call, to prepare for our big PPFair for YW tonight (huge hit, btw). My mind was consumed with all sorts of thoughts...bouncing back and forth between what I needed to do, and when/how it would be possible to visit my parents.
As I came out of the PX... I was mentally calculating YW things, while a soldier was walking directly back and to my left. I glanced over my shoulder,hoping I wasn't cutting him off and trying to gauge how fast he was walking so I wouldn't. I continued walking, caught up in my own little world...
when all of a sudden...
I stepped on a rock, turned my ankle and was on the ground before I even realized I'd stepped on the rock in the first place. I felt the sting of the palms of my hands & opposite knee, knowing I must've ripped my jeans. My shredded bag and keys were askew and my ego sorely injured.
The poor guy walking near me, could only keep saying "Are you ok? Oh OUCH! I'm so sorry", over and over. He was so kind, picking up all my loot, and standing over me. I think he had no clue how to help me.
I sat up and sat there for about 30 seconds, fighting the urge to burst out in tears. "I'm fine. Really. I just wasn't paying attention." Bright eyed, and mortified, I tried to get up and "walk it off"...all the while, concentrating on not letting a single tear fall.
I was extremely touched by his guesture of real aggravation on my account.
"Stupid rock", says he... whilst kicking it under a parked car. "That never should have been right in the middle of the road."
How cute is that!? I smiled, wanly.
I can only imagine how I looked to him... idiotic with my torn jeans, caked with blood and asphalt... sniffing my running nose, with no tissue to be found... while trying desperately to remain calm and contained.
I managed to thank him profusely, taking my stuff and hobbling to the car, as my ankle shrieked in protest. As I slammed the door shut, I broke down and sobbed.
For at least 10 solid minutes.
And my injury was only the catalyst for my heartfelt crying. I cried for my dad.I cried for my mom, and for all she must feel now.I cried for my grandparents, who will probably outlive their oldest child.
And yes...I cried for my brand new jeans.
Why couldn't I have been wearing my old mom jeans??
When I walked into my front door at home, every single person jumped to my aid. Even the one in a cast himself. He offered the crutches and all I could think about doing was to get my shoe off and wrap it as fast as I could and rest for 30 minutes before I had to leave to our PPFair.
I managed to do rather well, all the while hobbling and having to explain my idiocy...and put on a brave face when the throbbing seemed to take over my brain activity.
My son couldn't stop laughing when he saw the bag of frozen corn on my aching ankle. He said I need to be careful because I might turn into a vegetable after my fall.

"Falling hurts least those who fly low" ~~ Chinese Proverb.