Technically this happened yesterday but I was at the hospital and on Vicodin. Today is the first day of semi-lucidity.
Background:
In high school gym class ~20 years ago I was utterly demolished playing football by someone much larger than me. My comparatively undersized body was launched like a substandard North Korean nuke and quickly fell back to Earth. The majority of my weight crashed down on my right knee busting it up like a high school keg party.
My kneecap fractured, my ACL audibly tore and the whole area swelled to about 3x it's normal size. Somewhere between the intermittent blackouts and episodes of infantile mewling, I was hoisted into a wheelchair and transported to a local hospital. There I was informed of my injuries, and then, like a little girl offering me a flower for 1 gil, the doctor gave me a choice. It was a choice with broad reaching implications that would not reveal themselves until it was too late.
Doctor: If you ever want to play sports again, then you should get surgery to repair your knee.
Me (in my head): I just bought Mortal Kombat 3 at Kmart and can spend the next 2 weeks at home playing that instead of going to school
Me (out load): I'm never gonna be a pro athlete. Give me the crutches.
Fast forward to yesterday
I had just walked in the door from work, on next to no rest after seeing Tommy Trash live, and was excited for the three 3 S's: Shit, shower and sleep.
I threw my keys on a counter in the kitchen (a move I would later regret), stripped off my suit, put on sweats & a well worn t-shirt, then walked into the Room of My Fate. As I turned my back to the porcelain throne, I bent my knee ever so slightly to sit, and an audible tear, then a blood curling scream, filled my apartment. I collapsed from the sudden lost of support like a felled tree and smashed my skull on the floor of my bathroom. Outside the door, my dogs frantically howled and tried to dig their way in to help me to no avail. Like any modern man, I had brought my phone with me in the bathroom (with the full intent of a playing a round of Legends of Skyrim), instead I called the hospital across the street from me. I politely asked if they could send over a wheelchair.
Hospital: No. That's against HIPAA regulations. You'll either need to call an ambulance or get someone to help you.
Me (through stifled whines): That feels unnecessary since I live across the street. Someone that really needs an ambulance may be deprived. I'm literally one block away.
Hospital: Sorry. Don't know what to tell you.
After another 20 minutes on the unforgiving bathroom tile, all of which was spent regretting that fateful day I prioritized learning Subzero's 7 hit combo over my health, I finally drummed up the willpower to drag myself out of the bathroom and down the hall to the counter where I left my keys. While performing my best Lieutenant Dan impression, I used the stove handle and refrigerator door to get to my foot and threw my torso over the kitchen island. With my keys now in reach, I called for an Uber and hopped down the hall to exit my apt, grabbing a single business shoe along the way.
Within a few hours I finally had taken something for the pain. Now I'm in a leg restraint on my couch and I just finally got to play that damn round of Legends of Skyrim.
TL;DR: I screwed up my knee in high school gym class. I Opted not to get surgery because I had a new video game at home. 20 years later that same knee blew out as I went to sit on the toilet
Submitted August 06, 2017 at 03:06AM by JMDeutsch http://ift.tt/2vt0XIP tifu
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