My court-mates mobilized and in nanoseconds my leg was iced, elevated and getting stoned on CBD lotion. I stayed horizontal for an eternity due to insane pain and dizziness, but realized that people may actually want to use the tennis court for something other than triage. Getting me up and off the court was an act of God and yet the miracles continued when the club house produced a pair of crutches. I was able to shuffle to the outside area where I promptly sprawled across the bike lane and caused further concern that I would be run over by a speedster cyclist. I thought I could drive home, but when I couldn’t sit up for fear of passing out and then directing Jaimie to put my gear in the wrong car, it was decided that in the best interest for the safety of the good citizens of Coronado, Jaimie would drive me home. The term “Never leave your wingman” rang in my ears and the kindness of friends never ceases to amaze me.
Next up urgent care (two different ones thanks to insurance company confusion), bottles of drugs, a shot in the bum of my new best friend morphine, and instructions to rest. Rest, hmmmm. I asked the 12-year-old doctor if I would be ready in ten days for the National 50’s Tennis Tournament; he looked at me as if I had suffered a severe head injury and he was rendered speechless.
So here I am, four days out. My lovely tourney partner, Ruth, is completely chill and told me not to worry and suggested I roll on biofreeze six times a day. A teammate from Coronado offered me a free healing session. Tennis friends have suggested everything from ice to acupuncture. I am game for it all! Right now I am eating my way through the trauma which seems to be working because I am off the crutches. Step by slow step. I am thinking I can pull it together in a week…don’t mess with my denial!