Friday, April 22, 2011

Dfest: I've fallen and I can't get up.

I have dislocated my knee seven times. Yep. Seven.

The first time it happened I was a junior in high school. Hair straighteners had not yet reached Stoneham and I was suffering from chronic frizzy hair. This is relevant. I promise.

That fateful day of my dislocation I tried citre shine for the first time. I took a shower, spritzed my whole head, and carefully and slowly blew out my hair. The result was miraculous. My hair was shiny and bouncy and awesome. So bouncy in fact that I couldn't help but jump up and down repeatedly, demonstrating to my sister how amazing my new do was.

Up and down and up down on the recently cleaned hardware floors. And that is when it happened.

I went down. And the knee went out. And the pain shot through my body. And I started screaming.

I went to physical therapy after that, but the knee was never the same.

The last time I dislocated my knee was in September of 2005. It was the first week at my new job. I was getting on the orange line T at Oak Grove and the bell rang and someone came running in behind me and knocked me down. I spilled my coffee, ripped my sweater, and you guessed it, dislocated my knee.

I lay splayed out on the floor of the MBTA car. One leg hanging out by the door. The doors trying to close, but hitting my ankle instead.

Some kind soul hit the emergency button and a female T worker came to my aid.

First, she thoughtfully asked me if I tripped "in my little shoes".

I was wearing flip flops. So I immediately took issue with her tone and insinuation that I was a dumb girl commuting with inappropriate shoes. My flip flops were exceedingly comfortable and practical.

I managed to huff out, "No I did not trip, somebody pushed me."

Of course, all of the bystanders in car avoided eye contact. No one owed up to it. Bastards.

She then asked me if I wanted to get off and call an ambulance.

I said no, I just need your help popping the knee back into place. Because of some stupid, but probably smart, liability issues, the T woman told me she wasn't allowed to touch me. So I popped it back in myself. Took a seat. And hobbled off to work.

Lesson: beware citre shine and Oak Grove.

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