One time I fell. Well, I fall a lot. I have crappy joints and no depth perception up close and personal unless I have the right combination of dollar store glasses in combination with prescription lenses with prisms. Even then, it is an imperfect visual world and unless I go slowly and deliberately I end up on the ground wondering if anyone got the license number of the delivery van that just knocked me ass over teakettle.
Muscle memory and my long, personal history with gravity are not enough to keep me upright unless the correct alchemy of lenses, moderate speed in doing things and the planetary alignment is achieved. Really.
So, anyway, I fell that time and somehow managed to flip my right paw under instead of up to help break my fall. I did not break the wrist, but I did remove a nearly inch and a half square chunk of flesh, right down to the muscle and whatever else is there, because there is not a whole lot of muscle in that area.
I am a good healer. I heal quickly, almost freakishly so and everything grew back with a little help from a plastic, although quite pleasant, surgeon. This was at least twenty years ago, but sometimes, as in very infrequently, there is a sensation in that area that feels exactly like when the flesh was missing. It is not pain, but kind of like the hole is back. I cannot describe it, but people who have experienced missing flesh might know what I mean.
S'kay, that feeling is back. Along with a myokymia in my lower lip that I used to have when I was under extreme stress.
Two decades since that time when things were bad, even worse than they have been for the past couple of years.
I cannot do this again. I cannot have all of this crap in my life physically manifesting in the physical. I simply cannot. Guess I have to deal with this crap or deal with what happened.
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