Memory Well: Star Wars/Capitalistic Urges

People of my age (ok, nerds of my age – which includes most of my social circle) all seem to have a story about the first time that they saw Star Wars – how it was mind boggling, or expanded their consciousness, or (if they are a certain type of nerd) how they thought even back then that it was no big deal.  I, on the other hand, remember Star Wars fondly, with a mercenary little glow.

You see, I was one of those little girls who grew up knowing that Prince Charming was for suckers.  I was aware that I was going to have to make my own way in this world, and in order to do that, it was going to take cash – and I didn’t have the frail, blonde looks to have that handed to me.  So, I was the first female newspaperboy in Salmon, ID at 8, and by 11, when we moved to Pocatello, I was the neighborhood go-to babysitter.  (It might have helped some that the neighborhood was a trailer park – it’s not like these children were destined for prep school.) 

But anyway… I figured out that the local parents really had no interest in seeing anything that started out “A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…” so, for the next four or five weeks, I spent my Saturday and Sunday afternoons being paid to take their sproglets to the movie - $.50 an hour per kid, plus my ticket and popcorn.  It was a serious moneymaker for me – and I thank you sincerely, George Lucas.  You helped me pay off my trombone. 

I've Fallen and I Couldn't Get Up

It's been one of those days.  Well, weeks, really, but today was the topper. 

A little bit of an explanation, first.  I've got severe arthritis in my knees - I mean, to the point where I have absolutely no cartilage left anymore.  My left knee is the worst - I can't even put pressure on it, while the right knee at least lets me still go up stairs (slowly, but hey, I'll take it.)  So, what does this mean?  Other than being on a daily dose of oxycodone, normally not much, but it means that if I fall, that's it.  I'm down for the count. 

It's frustrating - when I was a kid, I ran everywhere.  I didn't own a pair of pants that didn't have a hole in the knee until I was probably 15.  (Ok, I was also a klutz, but still...)  But now, I'm cautious.  Really, really cautious.  The last time I fell down was ten years ago (and then it took six strong men and a blanket to get me up off the floor - of course, at that time, I also had a torn rotator cuff, which may have complicated things.) 

But this time, I was just getting dressed in my bedroom, leaning against my bed, and suddenly, my feet gave out and I was on the floor.  Not really hurt (ok, bruised, but nothing broken), but... stuck on the floor.  Moose, of course, immediately came to my aid by licking my face.  A lot.  We tried various things (pulling myself up, rolling over, Moose continued to try the face licking thing, assisted by Daisy and Dancer), but after about an hour, we had to give up and call 911. 

It's got to be the most humiliating call I've ever had to make in my entire life.  "You're not going to believe this, but I've fallen and I can't get up."  At least I managed to make the nice 911 operator laugh a little.  I was able to explain that I didn't need transport, I just needed help.  I had to confess my weight, but she didn't give me grief about it (thank you, 911 angel), and 10 minutes later, there was a knock at the door (luckily, Daniel had the foresight to put Moose and the girls in the back yard).

Five very burly, very cute firefighters - good to see some stereotypes still hold true.  Very efficient guys - they managed to get this sheet with handles underneath me, and with two on either side and one in front of me, it took maybe a minute and I was once again vertical (and incredibly grateful - offered to buy all of them a large drink any time they wanted one.)  And after they left, Daniel and I started looking for a portable Hoyer lift so that I never have to call them again. 

You know, I go along fine with the day to day - I make adjustments to my life and I try to ignore my disabilities as much as I can, but every once in a while they sneak up and bite me in the ass.  Fortunately, it looks like this one just left me with bruises on said ass (and ego), and an inability to ever again laugh at those stupid "I've fallen and I can't get up" commercials.