I fell down at the movie theater last night.
Once again, walking proved to be too challenging for this bi-ped. Mercifully, I was not carrying popcorn at the time.
Hey. Don’t laugh. It was dark, the theater had those recliner seats, and there wasn’t a lot of room to get past the folks with their legs sticking out. I tried, and then all of a sudden, I went down in one of those endless, clumsy falls, my brain saying, “Oh, Higgins, you tripped! Whoa, you’re still falling! Oh, crap, the bad ankle! Wow, we’re still going down! Ouch, your poor leg! That’s gonna leave a mark, isn’t it? Hang on, don’t get up, your wrist is stuck, don’t pull it out just yet, you might break it, dummy.”
At the same time, I was saying out loud, “I’m fine, I’m okay, it’s fine, sorry!” because I’m a nice Catholic girl who thinks everything is her fault. God forbid I said, “Maybe next time you could inconvenience yourself just a teeny bit and pull up your feet…”or “Sorry if I interrupted the previews, by all means, stay put, it’s not like a woman is lying awkwardly at your feet, stuck.”
HOWEVER…there was a person who did care. Dearest Son, who bolted out of his seat and came to my rescue. He helped me up, helped me limp to my chair, asked if I needed ice, took off my boot because my ankle was swelling. He folded up my coat and put it under my knee. He held my hand, even, patted my knee and asked repeatedly if I was okay.
I was. I am. The bruising will be ugly later this week. I won’t be able to go to the gym tomorrow, and I’m gimping around today. However, we were watching The Revenant, so it seemed kind of minor, my bumps and bruises. After all, I wasn’t mauled by a grizzly bear, and I wasn’t in the middle of the Rocky Mountains in the middle of winter, eating grass to survive. Even so, my leg hurt the entire time.
But I had my son with me. And he was attentive and sweet and manly and thoughtful, and heck, I found that I didn’t mind at all. After the movie, he put his arm around me and walked me to the car, and he didn’t even mind when I kissed him on the cheek and told him what a good son he was.
And is. Thank you, honey. You’re the best.