Superbowl Sunday and a shout out to my mother.

I forgot the Superbowl was tonight until the pastor this morning in church made a joke about it. oops. well I probably wasn't going to make plans anyway. Most of my friends go to church instead of Super Bowl parties and then just rush home to watch the game while shoving their faces full of nachos. And I'm not going to church tonight. Instead my windows are open, in JANUARY!, and I'm icing my foot.

I always feel two things about physical injuries: 1) they are dumb and 2) I am dumb for letting them happen. The whole freakin thing is dumb. This injury is exceptionally dumb, no rhyme or reason to it; I jumped off the bed, landed funny, and bruised the top of my foot. The top; not the side or the ankle or the normal foot places you injure. I bruised the TOP. It might be fractured, but I kind of don't think so and I always go through a period of denial with my physical injuries (If I just pray over it and don't tell anyone, it'll go away. That spider bite is probably just a large zit and will heal on its own.) But seriously, this time I think it's going to be okay. And if it's not, tomorrow I'll take my employed-with-insurance butt to a real live doctor (not just some Urgent Care man in a white coat).

After I fell out of the bed, I gave myself a good twelve hours and called my mom. Usually I don't call my mom unless I have definitives. Yes, I have MERSA and am now taking antibiotics. Yes, I did swallow all of my six steriod meds in one gulp, with coffee, but I'm resting comfortably. But this time I decided to be a grown up and not react stupidly to a dumb situation; I called my mom for advice. But I also called my mom, not just because I'm mostly grown, but because I'm not quite grown. I needed someone to tell me what to do and moms are perfect for this. Especially my mom. She knows what to say and how to make me feel okay. I called in a very calm voice, asked her how she was, and then launched into explaining my dumb situation. I used words like "a somewhat large bruise" and "sort of achy" and "it doesn't hurt too much right now." As always my mother didn't overreact and calmly told me what to do. The relief was instantaneous; even my foot felt better after my mother's diagnosis.

Okay, so the point of my foot and my windows and my Superbowl sunday is this: I love my mom. and I miss her. and how did I get so old that I'm supposed to be taking care of myself?


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