Grand Staircase: Me and My Inflatable Donut

I spent most of the Christmas holiday with a cold. And just when it was tapering off, I celebrated by falling down my stairs. In mid-flight, I accidentally knocked my dog over but she recovered much quicker and far more gracefully than I did. It was dark. And turned my head to see a police car go down the back alley and suddenly my bum was step-surfing. I haven't injured myself in quite a while but I fully expected to unleash a string of exquisitely detailed obscenities. Much to my surprise, I yelled, "Oh! Shoot! Shoot! Shoot! Ow! Ow! Ow!" I apparently was momentarily possessed by Grandma. I guess I didn't want to offend my pot-smoking neighbors whose window was open very near to where I fell. Which was very kind of me, considering it was midnight. And since it was midnight, I continued with the ritual of taking my dog out for the Quick Pee In Front Of the Bank. Upon returning...slowly...to my abode, I turned on the computer to consult the World Wide Web for a "What To Do". Because "It's Midnight" wins out over "Real Doctor Advice". I wrapped up my jammed fingers and went to bed.

I went to work the next day. My co-workers' reactions ranged from "What happened?" to "Why did you come into work?" The latter was an excellent question. Why? Well, first off: good story. Secondly: sympathy and attention. Like I said, it's been a while since I've been injured. Should I pass up the opportunity? But eliciting sympathy is a little precarious. Overdo it and you're not Poor Bruised Tailbone Mandy. You're a pain in the ass. GET IT?!?! Bruised Tailbone? (Side note: I can't believe this joke never occurred to me until this moment. I'm slipping...GET IT?!!? I fell!) Yes, I bruised my tailbone. Or as many delighted in telling me, I may have cracked it. So maybe I should have gone to the doctor. Apparently it wouldn't matter. Bruised or cracked, all I can do is wait it out. Just like the jammed finger. (I self-diagnosed that one as well. I could bend my finger without screaming Grandma-style again so I figured it couldn't be that serious.) Oh, that jammed finger? Of course, it had to be on my right hand. Specifically, my middle finger of my right hand. You use that finger quite a bit, I realize, when you're right handed. And it swelled up nicely. It was like that finger was replaced by a burly man's middle finger. I had an obese bird.

Now just over a week later, the finger is still swollen and bruised. The tailbone still hurts like crazy. Mainly when I've been sitting for a long time. Hence the Inflatable Donut. Hence not seeing Avatar yet.

And I bought that mini inner tube with no embarrassment of any kind. The shame only kicked in when others called it a Hemorrhoid Donut. Awesome. I feel I should go back to the CVS and explain to the cashier why I actually bought the donut. (Side note: I've been spelling it donut and not doughnut. It feels correct to leave "dough" out of it.) It's gotten a wee bit better though. Or I've gotten used to it. Or I've finally perfected the Art of Standing Without Engaging the Coccyx.

Warning: Staircase is steep. Please proceed with caution.