Invalids, that is.
If I didn't think he'd hate it, I'd take a picture of Jim right now, just so you all could see how pathetic a pair we currently make.
Our annual Fall Escape with our junior high youth group was this weekend. Jim and I had a previous commitment on Friday night, so our plan was to drive the hour to 4H Camp Palmer early Saturday morning. Early Friday afternoon, it started to become apparent that I was not up for the trip (even though I had planned to only stay for Saturday's activities, and not spend the night).
I kissed Jim goodbye early Saturday morning, making sure he had directions and admonishing him to be safe. My day passed uneventfully, and Jim called to check in with me about 6:30. I jokingly asked if there had been any injuries yet (as poor Matt, our youth pastor, has had to spend Friday night at the ER with a student for the past 3 years straight). Jim said, no, but that he'd twisted his knee a little bit, but was "fine." Again, I admonished him to be safe and not to overdo it with that night's Capture the Flag game. I shouldn't have wasted my breath....
Sunday morning, Jim was supposed to call me when he left Camp Palmer, to let me know he was headed home. 11, 11:30, noon, 12:30 all came and went, with no phone call. I, dramatic on a good day and now hormonal to boot, began to imagine the worst. But then I see the Miata pull in the driveway about 1 pm. Except Jim isn't driving. His co-leader, Paul, is.
I knew it!
Oh, Jim was in the car, and in one piece. But I knew he and Paul haven't bonded enough yet for Jim to have gone, "hey, Paul, it's a gorgeous day; do you want to drive my convertible home?" out of the goodness of his heart.
The two of them proceed to give me some cockamamie story about how Jim's knee is "just twisted," and how everything is "fine." (Um, hello, that's my line.) Jim slipped and said, "it's okay, I just have to go back to the doctor tomorrow." Um, back? As in, you've already been?, I question. He covers, "no, I mean, I have to see my doctor tomorrow."
So, Jim takes Paul home, and while he's gone, what do I discover on the kitchen counter but a HOSPITAL BRACELET!!! Okay, so now I'm going beyond concerned to just plain ticked off. Just because I'm a high-risk pregnancy doesn't mean I'm some delicate flower who can't handle bad news. (Come to find out, Jim called my parents, not me, as he was being rushed to the ER Saturday night. They didn't care to share the news, either.)
Anyway, I'll summarize, as I've managed to drag the simple story out long enough: Jim twisted his left knee. The hospital doctor doesn't think he has torn anything, but he is to follow up with his regular doctor on Monday. He is taking some pain meds, and is currently asleep on the couch (but then again, what all-American male who is "watching" Sunday football right now isn't asleep on the couch? ;) lol!).
I'm going to make him take a pair of crutches when we go to Cinci this coming weekend. The last thing I need is for him to get trampled at the football game on Sunday and become even more incapacitated. One of us needs to stay functional. Despite basic math principles, we're living proof that a Jim at 50% and a Monica at 50% does NOT make a Gregory at 100%.....it just makes for two cranky, frustrated, tired, and uncomfortable people.
We are going to look a fright as we go hobbling into Lamaze class tomorrow night....ugh.
Your prayers and support are coveted as we try to heal.
PS -- Sprout is fine through all this. Doing gymnastics that take my breath away, literally. He has no sense of what is going on out here, of this I am sure. If he did, he would know he should be still and quiet right about now.
PPS -- stupid Indians. They better win soon, or I'm going to convert Sprout to a Tigers fan, just for spite.
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