We hosted a huge party for the 4th of July and a good time was had by all, with the exception of Larry. While playing host and trying to encourage the kids away from the water slide during the thunderstorm and into the bounce house (much safer, I know), he slipped. One leg went south and the other leg headed north. Two doctor's appointment and an MRI later, we learn that he has a torn MCL. Luckily, this tendon will regenerate itself with some time and physical therapy, however, Larry is stuck with a knee brace and crutches for the next few weeks.
And while my husband has been more than appreciative of my waiting on him hand and foot, I am still waiting on him hand and foot. The waiting, oh it is becoming taxing. Already.
Today at lunch he was moaning about the crutches and I said, "You know, some people spend their whole lives on crutches." He nodded, then asked for a Coke.
I know it sucks and I am trying to be sympathetic, but let's face it, I am just not meant for servitude. I think that's a main difference between us. If it was me, I would still be trying to get stuff done and figuring out how to maneuver on the crutches, but he's scared of falling or balancing or something, and just doesn't risk it. He may have to learn real quick like though.
A funny: Shey came into our room around five this morning announcing over and over again, "I'm wet, I'm wet, I'm wet." I crawled out of bed (which I propped up with a case of water by the way) and followed him to his room. As I was stripping the bed, Shey asked, "Who turned the water on?"