Tag: humour

Diary entry

I see it’s on for tomorrow. I better get the running gear out because I’m unlikely to be early for the City to Surf run in the morning. Okay, that’s done. Now I’ll set the alarm for the early start. Chilly outside tonight but I commit to a slow jog around the block anyway. I need the pacing, stride and rhythm. Slow amble up the hill with the street lights and side path in full view. But wait, I need to swing right and cut the distance. That way it’s a short run and I won’t overdo it. Pretty dark in this area with little or no illumination. Okay, I’ll hop over the curb and make it to the street lamp on the other side. What the blazes?! Argh! Extreme contortion, extreme disorientation and now excruciating pain. I’m in a shallow ditch. I better drag myself out. Oh Hell, the ankle’s gone. I need to make it to the other side where there’s a low wall to rest on. Only one leg in action, so I have to hop my way over as best I can. Damn! Only moments ago I’m buzzing and positive but now I’m confused and concerned with my immobility. Sitting on the wall I gingerly place some leg weight on the ankle and again, stabbing pain and I yell out. Gathering my breath I decide to commit to some kind of recovery plan and begin hopping it back home. Twenty metres, thirty metres – I’m exhausted. This is way harder then I imagined and I’m realising all this is draining my energy reserves. People are out walking their dogs but I block thoughts of needing assistance. This is ridiculous. Finding another wall, I rest briefly and hobble off toward a mailbox halfway down the road. Without thinking, I place some weight on the wrong ankle and collapse to the ground in pain. Now I’m in the fetal position. I need help. Wait, I notice a postal van at the mailbox! I call out to the guy unlocking the box and clearing the letters. He looks over at me a bit startled. I manage to get up somehow and call again as I hobble toward him. This is the moment, my opportunity. He looks apprehensive (after all, there’s a guy coming toward him in the half light calling out). But he appears to appreciate the situation. I am closer now and seizing the moment, tell him that I’m badly hurt and that I need a lift. “Its just around the corner” I say, “in the next street.” He tests me by asking me the name of the street (he’s seen this kind of thing before) and agrees to help. As I clamber in I realise there’s no seat (because it is a postal van) & so I sit on the ground amidst parcels and bags of letters. A moment later I arrive home blessing the Aust Post and their benevolent workers. This would have to be the kindest thing someone has done for me (even if there wasn’t a seat!). An hour later I check into the hospital and receive an X-ray for a compound fracture.