Roller Skating Down A Slope And Smashing My Knee

Rollerskateaccident 300x219 Roller Skating Down A Slope And Smashing My Knee
You remember in the blog Skiving Off Work and Random Sontaneity? I bought some skates. I called them my babies. Well let me tell you they are not my babies any more. I am calling time out from these bastards.

So it is 7 in the morning and I’m at my mama’s house. I have my roller skates with me and my stupid ass decides to go for an early morning skate around the block.

I exit

The house is on a gentle slope, or so it seems. Left is down and right is up. However this ain’t no game console. This is real life.

I turn left.

***ERROR***

In seconds I know I am in trouble and I don’t know what to do. I pick up speed very quickly and I cannot stop. Panic surges through me, like a canister of petrol being thrown onto an open flame.

I see a tree

Shall I try and grab it?

I am going too fast to manouvre towards it and grab hold of it to stop myself. I’d have probably taken the skin off my palms if I tried, or even worse smashed my face open on the bark. At the bottom of the slope is a crossroad. I am going to go zooming right across the road if I cannot turn.

It is too sharp. I cannot do it.

I go straight across the road. Luckily there are no cars or I could be dead by now.

I am going towards a driveway headed by a glass door.

Stopped by the curb.

At first I scream out in agony, like I’ve been shot. Not that I’ve been shot before but it was the kind of scream that I imagine I’d do if I had just been shot. My scream turns into crying, loud breathy sobs, which subside into quiet whimpers, like a dog that has just been run over. I lie there, just me and my whimpering.

As much as I think hard about how it all went down I just cannot remember what hit the ground first, buttocks or knees? My bottom hurts badly and it painful to sit on but the pain is nowhere as bad as it is with my right knee. I think I fell backwards onto my bum, but then that does not explain the hefty skid and graze on the inside of my right knee. Did I fall on my ass and rollover? Hmmm maybe that is how it happened, but then I would expect my backside to hurt more (hmm, how many words have I used for my derriere now? This wasn’t intentional. I just noticed it!)

I lie on the ground unable to move. About 5 different people walk past me and not one motherfucker comes to my rescue.

Invisible

I don’t have any phone on me so I can’t call anyone. I lie for about ten minutes before finding the strength to haul myself up. It was D.I.F.F.I.C.U.L.T with those heavy ass skates. I had to undo all the laces, remove them, and carry them limping and hopping up to the house, still whimpering.

My father opens the front door and asks me what is wrong. I explained what had happened. Always the sympathetic and caring type, he told me,

“What did you expect going down a hill? Are you riding a bicycle? Do you have brakes?” Oh the sarcasm…

I call in to work to tell them I am not coming in. My father then proceeds to tell me that I “engineered” my injury. HA! YES! That makes perfect sense right? I would fuck myself up and risk death to not go into work. Not quite at that stage and I don’t think I could ever be! Perhaps he was having flashbacks of when I was 12 and created fake vomit with mashed cornflakes and other random foodstuffs to try getting out of going to school.

I spend the day with my leg up on the sofa. By the afternoon the swelling has started and so a packed of mixed vegetables is thrown onto it. The dried blood has turned a purply-black colour and sits upon my knee, shiny, like clumps of nail varnish. Everytime I go to bend my knee it feels as though the skin is going to split and an eruption of blood emerge like lava from a volcano. The pain sears through my knee up to my hip bone. Every centimetre of movement is like being stabbed with a butter knife.

In the afternoon I lay on the sofa watching Nollywood films. I go between laughter and crying and sometimes both at the same time. Drugs are great except when you become addicted. My mother gives me a pink pill to relieve pain. An hour after taking it and I can move my leg with only moderate pain. I imagine I’ll take them all week. Let’s just hope I don’t go Wacko Jacko up in this bitch and become dependent.

Late afternoon and my mother keeps bringing me the phone to talk to various family members. She is always doing this and I HATE it. It is always some person I have never laid eyes on or may have met once or twice in passing. It may even be someone she wasn’t talking to or even slagging off the week before. So I am laying with my smashed up knee and have to be on the phone making small talk too! One person comes on the phone and they will be with others and the phone will go around the whole room and I don’t even know who any of them are.

One of them will say something like,

“Remember I used to carry you when you were a baby?”

HELL NO! My memory is not that good! I can pretty much guarantee that anyone I met before I had the capability to speak and have not met since I will DEFINITELY NOT REMEMBER! I hope I never get to the stage where I use lame ass lines like that!

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