Getting a Leg Up

I guess BG's been feeling under-attended-to lately, what with all of the pregnancy cooing, and going to various doctors appointments for poking and prodding, because he decided to go to "advanced power skating class" a couple of weeks ago, and in the last minutes of class, fell down and broke his leg in a SPECTACULAR way. Like, standing alone, with nobody near him. He broke his leg in two places. If that's not a cry for attention, I don't know what is.

I actually feel really badly for him, if that wasn't apparent by my intro. He's in a lot of pain. He's on crutches, and the worst part for him is that he's basically useless for eight weeks. Bathing alone and climbing stairs are now marathon events, and he can't even drive, having shattered his right tibia and fibula. Only a few weeks ago I was complaining to him that he couldn't sit still at home, that he was always doing some project and couldn't we just spend some TIME together quietly talking, and not have him racing around like a madman every second of every day.

Well, I got my wish, I guess. Someone up there has a pretty messed up sense of humour.

This is the kind of situation where you realize who your friends are. More than a few of our friends have rallied together to do the kinds of heavy-lifting and ladder-climbing that neither of us is able to do (BG is calling us, bitterly, "The Useless Couple"). Even still, he hobbles down the basement stairs JUST TO SEE WHAT'S GOING ON. He can't help himself. However, we have gotten to have some lovely, lazy chats that start early on Saturday evening and end late on Sunday mornings. We've eaten Cheetos in bed. We've watched some movies. We complain to each other about our various physical discomforts, comparing pain. So far, he's winning.

This baby is coming in July some time. I hope he can drive us to the hospital by then.