Monday, 31 May 2010
Call Me Magellan
His expedition of 1519 - 1522 in search of a westward route to the Spice Islands was the first to sail from the Atlantic into the Pacific, across the Pacific Ocean, and complete the first circumnavigation of the Earth. Having been cleared for weight bearing as tolerated while wearing my Aircast boot on May 21st, my expedition was circumnavigation of the house. Outside.
Magellan had three ships. I had my rolling walker, camera, and - at Paul's suggestion - my cell phone. Off I set, out the front door and off to the right, pausing occasionally to photograph flowers.
Passing the greenhouse I paused to photograph this wonderful shell pink peony emerging from the weeds.
Continuing on basically flat ground and reaching the area of the deck
I again paused to take a picture of this apricot blush David Austin rose.
I was working up a sweat by now. Traversed the rear of the house and turned up the side facing the street. And it was here that I ran into issues. There is a swale, a depression, extending from the basement sliding doors across the lawn more or less at right angles to my travel pattern. And there was another David Austin rose in flower, a magnificent red one. I was determined to take its picture. Now mind you, from the time I photographed the apricot rose it had taken me 21 minutes to get here. Most of the time was spent lurching on my journey. I edged a little closer, a little closer, stretch over the walker just a bit more . . . . and fell over.
Ferdinand Magellan died in 1521, before the completion of his expedition. I was fortunate enough to damage nothing but my pride. Camera, cell phone, and - most importantly - my ankle, encased in its Aircast boot, were fine. While I could flip the walker upright, I could not do the same for myself. Called Paul who came to my aid, steadying the walker as I hoisted myself to a vertical state. Even asked if I wanted to take another picture of the rose.
No, I think this one will do, thank you very much.
So, with Paul alongside I struggled up out of the swale, across the front of the house, and back to the front door, circumnavigation completed and a portion of my weed-choked garden observed and flowers recorded.
I e-mailed a friend (who happens to be a physical therapist) and told him of my travels, only to be appropriately chastised. Falling even once, I was emphatically told, is not standard operating procedure. It would be a real nightmare if I should disrupt the plate and screws holding my ankle together. In my defense I offered the fact that this was the first time I'd been this close to my garden in over three weeks. It was temptation, and I succumbed. No justification, and I would in future be more careful and secure whatever I was doing.
It was real good to be this close to the garden though.