It was one week yesterday that I made an unplanned stop at the emergency room.
I worked outside in the gardens in the morning, then, as the day--and heat--wore on, I decided to finish up when it cooled off in the evening.
I went inside and did my quarterly ironing (it took me 2 hours...).
Then, I sat down in front of the TV, and noticed a commercial for some paint company.
"That's what I can do!"
I looked at the cut out wall above my mantle and decided Saturday was the day I would paint it. It would probably only take about 2 hours at the most. I had bought the paint, and a new A-frame ladder months ago. If I didn't finish on Saturday, I could finish it up on Monday, Labor Day.
I was all set. I started to cut in the corners with the blue paint. Since my ceiling is vaulted, it is taller on one side. I looked at the ladder. I would need to go up one more rung. I read the directions on the ladder that said I shouldn't stand on the top step, but the next to the top step was fine. That's where I needed to go.
The next thing I knew, I was face down on the carpet and a horrible pain shot through my right ankle.
The other scrapes and bruises didn't kick in until the next day.
Suffice it to say, a young couple from church carried me to their car and drove me to the ER. Sandy came a little later and stayed with me until I was discharged, with a boot that wouldn't fit yet until the swelling went down.
*sigh*
No more ladders for me.
I hate ladders to begin with ever since I saw my dad on the ground with a compound (or was it complex) fracture of the arm when I was 12. He had fallen off a ladder while painting the house. His elbow bone was sticking out of his arm. He was in shock. So was I.
That's why I read the directions and followd them when I was on this ladder, which is now bent out of shape. I believe the ladder collapsed right under me. I don't know why.
Luckily it was Labor Day so I only missed Tuesday and Wednesday. I went back to work on Thursday and a half-day Friday.