A Leg To Stand On

But life, in spite of this latest detour, goes on pretty much as usual. The maddening events at school, the confusing behavior by men, the daily grind of home ownership.

Hil's leg injury, first thought to be a sprain was actually a fracture which brought a whole host of problems bubbling to the surface.

I wonder what quack Lars had taken her to who misdiagnosed the injury and wonder if the quack was not a a person at all, this had just been his half-rate medical guess.

She is on crutches now, with an annoying full-length boot affair affixed to her scrawny little leg for most of the day, and a little immobilizing brace (vice) squeezing her ankle into submission all night. She is as cheerful as a rattlesnake.

When she returns from Lars' house at the end of the week, he's given me all kinds of instructions and notes and hoo-hah about what to do to care for her. As if this weren't a natural instinct of mine. Like I am one of those wild animals in Yosemite that wanders away from my young when I get bored with them. I graciously snatch the crinkled notes from his prissy little hands and jam them disrespectfully in my back pocket without looking at them. I help her  in the door and proceed to close it in his face with a dismissive little wave. Asswipe.

Hil hands me a note  from school that needs to be returned on Monday.  It is a note about using the elevator, according to her.

And all I can think is "Elevator?  We had mimeograph machines and chalkboards when I was there and now you have A/C, energy efficient windows, scanners, smartboards AND an elevator???"  I take the paper from her to see what I have to know.

And I am immediately infuriated.

It is not a helpful little note about how and when the elevator can be accessed by my temporarily disabled child. It is a contract.

Hil is responsible for making sure that no one gets on the elevator with her, except someone specifically designated to help carry her books.

Hil is responsible for proper elevator usage. No horseplay. No noise. No graffiti. No, no Nanette.

If there is any trouble whatsoever, Hil will be subject to detention, a written reprimand and will lose her elevator privileges.

Over my rotting carcass, she will. Mama's on a new mission.