Horses and Bayonets

Last Sunday night there was a couple of hours between the time the kids got picked up by their dad and when the boyfriend was due to arrive, which coincided beautifully with a break in the torrential downpour we’d been having for days.

DAYS. The previous Thursday my company had a visitor from out of town (the southern States), who said, “You know, back home, we have rain, but it might rain a few times a day, for a few minutes at a time.” I remember places like that. Here, however, when it rains, it pours. And pours and pours and pours. Non-stop. No stopping. It can continue for days. It hardly rained at all here for months, and everything was so dusty and brown and gross that I found myself wishing for a little precipitation in spite of my genetic preference for dry, sunny weather. Anyway, I got my wish.

So it wasn’t raining. And I decided to take the dog up to the dog-friendly park for a good solid session of fetch, and tire her right out. We played and played, and when she started getting tired she kind of wandered around and played with the other dogs for a bit, so I engaged in some conversation with the other owners up there. I was talking to one guy, he’s a neighbour and has a dog almost exactly Lucky’s age so they play together a lot and now he’s like a pal of mine. Jeff. He’s from Newfoundland and I asked him if he knows my co-worker Wayne who’s also from Newfoundland. He said, “Yeah, I know Wayne!” but then he said of course he didn’t, they don’t all know each other. I’m not letting up on this, I’m sure they know each other somehow.

So anyway I was talking to Jeff the Newfie about something undoubtedly amazingly interesting and then my ear slammed into the grass. You see, I was looking at Jeff, who was kind of at my say, 3 o’clock, so I was sideways and looking back at him. And Finnegan and Luna (2 mid-sized dogs) were racing each other and coming at me at my say, 9 o’clock, and not looking where they were going, and took me right out at the knee. I went flying and slammed into the ground. First thought was, “I’m not getting back up. Uh oh uh oh uh oh.” Then I tried my leg, and was able to bend the knee and wiggle the foot so I knew it wasn’t broken but OH MY GOD it hurt so bad. Poor Jeff, he was asking me if he could help me but all I could think about was the pain and I was making sounds I’ve only ever made once before: during labour. Like I cared. The pain was that bad. Like that time I was in labour and went to the hospital after being in the shower for an hour at home and was wearing only a robe and started stripping it off in the waiting room. There are times when nothing matters but the pain, certainly not shame. So anyway I was making these monster/labour sounds then decided, I have to get up. I have to see if I’ll ever walk again. So I did, proclaiming loudly how I felt just fine and would be just fine and hobbled my whole way back home with Lucky. The pain was actually progressively worse with every step.

My next door neighbour, who is a hockey coach, saw me on my way back and said – “Uh oh. This is a classic hockey injury,” and worried it was my ACL. All I could think about was my beloved Andrei Markov. My neighbour and his wife helped me, then my boyfriend arrived and took over, and then everything was a terrific combination of painkillers, wine, ice packs and TLC.

The next morning it was no better but I found that as long as I was moving around it felt okay so I got dressed for work like usual and went in. One of my co-workers asked me what had happened, because I was limping, and I told him the story.  He said, “By the way, only YOU would still wear 3-inch heels when you’re limping.” To which I replied, “Excuse me, just because I’m injured doesn’t mean I have to be ugly!”

So I was hurt on Sunday, and after every single person I encountered asking me what had happened and following that up with giving me hell for not having seen a doctor yet, I finally went to the doctor on Tuesday afternoon. She was pretty nice. I told her how it was so weird, after getting slammed into like a brick wall, my knee wasn’t even swollen or bruised. Then my pants came off and of course it was BLACK and swollen so much it was SHINY. But it wasn’t that morning – or the previous evening or whenever was the last time I actually looked at it.

Anyway, I also have this mole/bump thing on my leg that has been there forEVER and I always forget to ask about it when I go to the doctor. As a matter of fact, just this past summer both my mom and my friend Lisa asked me about it, on separate occasions, and told me to get it looked at. Actually, Lisa pointed at it and said, “What is that, cancer?” So I finally asked about it, since my pants were off and I was at the doctor’s and everything.

She took one look and said, “Oh that, that’s a (not sure the word-probably something Latin), it’s nothing to worry about.” Me: “Oh, good, I’ve been worried about that for a while! So you’re sure it isn’t….” Her: “No, no, no, it’s fine, totally benign, it’s basically just an age spot.”


I texted Lisa while hobbling up to the x-ray place and gave her the update, including the doctor’s parting insult. When I got back to the office, she laughed and reminded me about the time about 6 years ago when I was at the Bay and getting some concealer from the Clinique lady. She asked what eye cream I used. Well, I didn’t, so I sputtered, “I don’t…I’m not…I don’t need…” and she put her hand on my arm and said, “Dear…it’s time.” Well, I still don’t use eye cream so…I don’t know WHO the joke is on, so there.

Anyway I got my x-ray, will get the results back soonish, and there may be an MRI in my future as well as physio, you know, for in my spare time. The worst part of this whole thing has been explaining how the injury happened. It takes 1111 words, apparently.

The second-worst part is taking the stairs. Bending the knee is still too hard so I have to put the bad foot down, then the good one. Taking the stairs takes about 5 times longer, and I’m reminded of when my babies were learning the stairs. And did I mention 5 levels in my townhouse? FIVE.

P.S. I called this one Horses and Bayonets because it’s one of the best things I’ve heard all year. Only reason. I know it’s misleading.

That’s it, that’s the update for now.



  1. Veronica !!! Ohmygoodness !!! Are you okay??!! You definately do write an entertaining version of a totally painful event …. These dogs!!! I fell on my face and nearly broke my nose my last week there trying to stop the Dood from false creek…

    Can picture you hobbling … In heels of COURSE!! Hahaha! Good thing you didn’t go and do this to the Devils and GCC … Hee hee! Miss your silly self xoxo


  2. ‘melanoma’ is probably that word, and i’m glad to hear you DON’T have it. ‘Is that cancer?’ is the last thing you want to hear when your pants are off. Oh, and sorry to hear about your non-hockey related ‘hockey injury.’ (I assume everyone in Canada calls an injury a ‘hockey injury’ right?). BTW, did you ever find out how Jeff the Newfie knows Wayne the Newfie? I’m dying to know.


    • Melanoma wasn’t the word either. Maybe I’ll ask her at my follow-up! Whatever the word is, it’s a lot nicer than that second thing she called it.

      And I keep meaning to find out Jeff’s last name. They have to at LEAST know each other’s families.


  3. Eye Cream? You don’t need no stinking eye cream! I hope you feel better very soon, and aren’t put on the DL. Great post though, love the title:


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