Trigger warning: I’m about to talk about another injury. If you’ve experienced Betsy Injury Trauma, you may want to move along.
But, for a delightful change of pace, I didn’t damage my left foot. Not even a foot!
This time it was my right knee. I dropped a larger-than-me human on top of it.
At the end of my women’s self defense class (the irony), one woman asked if I could go off-curriculum and show them how to throw someone over one’s back. No problem, but I didn’t stop to think that she was much heavier than I.
She landed on my leg, which elicited an audible “crack.”
Note: the pics have nothing to do with the story (until the end) but add a little levity, I hope. 🙂
The Saturday after Thanksgiving is an excellent time to get a procedure done. I was worried about finding close parking (wish I had a handicap sticker hanger thingy), or any parking, but the lot was all but empty. Score!
When a technician asked what I had done to my foot, I explained it was a martial arts injury. More details appeared to me needed. “Jiu-jitsu,” I replied. More still. “I sort of bent it backwards toward my leg.” And yet more. “It was a double leg takedown.” For the record, this person did not have the air of someone who does or knows much about martial arts.
Later I overheard this conversation being relayed to another technician who laughed at “double leg takedown.”
I’m just going to tell you this now so you’re prepared. I don’t want you to start crying and cause a scene, making L. ease away slowly while forcing an apologetic smile for those witnessing this unfortunate display.
It looks like we’ll have to cancel class tomorrow night.
Now, now, Sensei! Compose yourself! It’s going to be okay.
Sensei! Breeeeeeaaaathe. Innnnnn….. Ouuuuuuuuuttttt…. Very good. That’s right. Now thank whomever just brought you a chair. Oh, and that person who handed you a tissue and tossed a sympathetic smile to your wife. Now, again, it’s going to be O-Kay!
You see a friend of mine from college—that’s a place smart people go after high school, maybe you’ve heard of it—will be in San Diego on business tomorrow night. Breeeeeeathe. That’s right, very good, Sensei. You’re doing great.
So Hubby and I will drive down to meet him for dinner. Yes, that’s right, dinner. Good, good. Shhh… shhhh… Remember, everything is going to be O-kay. I promise. We’ll still have Thursday night. It’s just a few days later. Then you’ll get to see us again. Alright? That’s not too bad, right? Just a few more days.
That’s a good boy. Just wipe your nose one more time. Nope. You missed it. Try again. Much better. Okay. Very good. We’ll see you Thursday, Sensei.
Ah, now, come on, Sensei! I told you! It’s going to be okay!
Could someone please get him another tissue?!
I was fully prepared to accept my crown as the queen of this insult war Sensei and I play. Then he responded.
This post could also be called: Seriously? Again with the foot?!
I’m afraid so, friends.
Somewhere around my fourth or fifth Jiu-Jitsu drill attempt, I crunched my left foot beneath me. (Yep, that one again.) I drove my knee to the ground, as planned, but somehow didn’t leave enough space for my foot to flip over so the shoelace side would be down. Instead, with my knee to the ground, my foot started to flatten bottom-side down.
Go ahead and see what that must be like. I’ll wait.
You see? No bueno.
I kept going anyway, but then put my hand down when I wasn’t supposed to, so, knowing we’d have to redo it for that mistake anyway, I called a halt.
I just chilled, breathed through the pain, and a couple minutes later, was back on my feet, pain-free.
Isn’t the human body amazing? I’m guessing adrenaline kicked in and carried the day. I didn’t feel any more pain until sometime later, back at home, when I was walking around a bunch, out of necessity, and was like, “Huh. My foot hurts.”
I finished helping make pretzels for the Taekwondo belt ceremony and continued with my life. (Yep, same day. It was a productive one!)
Thank goodness this Taekwondo class was only a belt ceremony and not a normal lesson in all its running, jumping, kicking glory. There was, however, a bit of running: up to receive the belt, certificate, and Grey Poupon mustard packet. (That makes zero sense if you haven’t first read this.) Then running backwards to my spot on the floor. Afterward was just a bunch of standing around, talking, eating, and joking about decades-old commercials.
Pardon me…
Though I again felt zero pain at the ceremony, once home, I was limping.
Motherhood and Martial Arts 