The Cripple

Sunday, I get a call from Mr. Bruises, he is at the motocross track, saying that he crashed and was heading to the hospital just to get checked out. It seems as though he was going over a little jump, trying to go around someone and when he crested the top of the jump, his bike jumped out of gear. He went down and his arm was pushed into his side and he fractured two ribs. The bike, doesn't have a scratch.

Mr. Bruises is 44 years old. He's been riding since he could walk. This is his FIRST crash ever with any type of injury. I remember when I first met him, he has a couple of scars on his face and I was all impressed that they were race injuries. Later I found out that he is just clumsy and that they were all caused by tripping over a fan in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom.

Well, he is in a lot of pain. I can totally sympathize. However, he is a total bugger, fighting me on everything to do with his recovery. Trying to say I am overdosing him by giving him two pain pills when the prescription says one to two every four hours. He won't eat, but he has to eat to take his Motrin. Then he complains because he has an upset stomach. Well, if you ate, you wouldn't have the upset stomach. Then he says he don't want to eat because he is just sitting, doing nothing and can't burn it off. WTF? I am certain that this boy was a woman in a former life. He worries about his weight more than anyone I know.

The goldens have totally dumped me for him. He's been sleeping in the Lay-Z-Boy, so I get the bed all to myself. Literally. I wake up in the morning and I am alone. Everyone is with him, even the cat. Geez.

The other night, I offered to make the ultimate wifely sacrifice. I offered to wipe his butt. Those of you knowing me and my gag reflex will appreciate this selfless gesture. Luckily, he was able to take care of that business on his own.

I don't know how long he is going to be out of commission, but I finally feel comfortable going to work and leaving him alone. They say three weeks of bad pain and six weeks to heal.

Now as for these goldies. Don't they realize that I not only purchase their kibble, but I hand it out as well. I better be getting me some snuggles or they will be on a hunger strike with their father!