I don't want to talk about it.

My week of vacation seemed like hardly that. Although it was wonderful to see my family, especially my parents, the vacation was hardly relaxing. My parents hosted the first four days, which meant a lot of preparation and clean-up. Wanting my Mom to enjoy the time with her family, I ended up taking on most of the shit tasks. As for the remainder of the trip, I was a bit uncomfortable, what with all the internal bleeding and all. (read on)

The time I was looking forward to the most was golfing with my Dad. But, like recent events of June, it got all fucked up. I've taken some heat for being too vague, so I'll take this opportunity drag out the boring details and I am sure the requests will stop. Here goes. My parents own a Segway, and I had been riding it Monday night; in a hurry, I hadn't plugged it back in to charge. With some extra time Tuesday morning, I decided to plug it in for the family to use later that day. (With my heart in the right place, it's total bullshit that this story has an ugly ending.) Well, at this point, it was corralled between vehicles, trash cans, and kayaks. While trying to maneuver it into place, it stopped on me and I stumbled over it, hitting my (good) knee on the "control shaft". Holy crap - it hurt and not in the hit your head on the cupboards hurt - I mean it really fucking hurt. Well, my Dad told me to suck it up and was pissed off that I had hurt myself to begin with. Ok... back to the story. Shit, I am so crappy at this - is anyone still with me? Ok, so we make the 40-mile trek out to the course and by the time I roll out of the vehicle, I've developed a second knee cap. By hole two, I am in some serious pain. At this point, the golf is probably out, but at least I can ride along. Then, a summer storm starts rolling in and we head for the storm cabin. After an hour or so of sitting there, I can hardly move without a painful burning sensation in my leg. Golf's out and at this point, riding along is out. My Mom has to be called and start the drive out to pick my sorry ass up. Upon her arrival, I limped out - she was a bit in awe and thought for sure I had broken something but still had to cover her mouth because she was laughing, laughing in the sincerest way, I'm sure.

I'm not much of a bruiser, in the literal sense. I could easily be a battered wife and have no physical signs of abuse. Well, holy shit if the thing didn't swell a small watermelon and bruise to the horror of everyone. (pictures to follow at a later date - when my cousin sends them) According to the physician's assistant at the orthopedic clinic, I burst all the blood vessels in my leg and possibly ruined some of the medial meniscus (cartilage). Well, the bruise and subsequent swelling has continued to move it's way down my leg into my ankle and up the other side. (again, pictures to follow). Keep in mind, I couldn't make this shit up if I tried and if I did, I sure as hell wouldn't make myself out to be such an idiot. I still have a gross bump the size of a baseball under my skin and the nurse at work thinks I better go into the emergi-clinic tomorrow.

Seriously, WTF!?!? Just as I was "finding my rock," I get this major setback. I am so sick of this crap and it's been happening all damn month. Fuck you, June - I'm over it.