I have a friend who goes by the nickname Skippy. No, he's not addicted to peanut butter. Skippy is a great guy. Odd but then so are most of my friends. Skippy plays with whips and massages horses and reads romance novels. And once made me limp for nine months.
"He hurt you?" I hear you cry out in dismay.
He didn't mean to. Here's what happened.
I was at my friend's little girl's birthday party. She was turning four and was the cutest thing ever. (She still is.) There was burgers and playing at the park. We all were having a great time.
As I was all sugared and caffeined up, I was a little rambunctious. We all started horsing around. I was randomly tickling and punching Skippy. You know how it is. He grabbed my hands and took me down.
He hooked his foot around mine and I went off balance and hit the pavement. My knee hit first. I said Ouch! and tried to get up. Didn't work so well. I couldn't straighten my leg.
We all took a trip to the walk in clinic. After a few hours and a few x-rays, they sent me home. The verdict was that nothing was broken and it must just be a strain. I got my crutches and went home.
Three days later, the swelling had gone down but I still couldn't straighten my leg without severe pain. I went back to the doctor. More x-rays. Same results.
A week after that, I went back again. This time they got me a MRI. The results came back. Apparently when my knee hit the ground the kneecap slid out of the way first. I had a deep bone bruise on the inside of my joint. What can be done about a bone bruise? Not a thing. It finally healed after nine months.
Skippy still feels horrible and guilty whenever I bring it up. I have a tiny mean streak that makes me laugh at him wincing over it. I forgave him five minutes after it happened.
But it is fun to see him feel bad about it. Even ten years after the fact. And in case you were wondering, Yes he does read my blog.
I bet you I just cured him of feeling bad about it.
I love you, Skippy!