For the record…I don’t know how to get my blog to stop showing you TWO of the same picture in each post. Sorry.
I don’t have mirrors in my house. I mean, there is a tall mirror in Robin’s room because, well, she’s seventeen and that is required. And we have a small hand mirror in the kitchen of course, because doesn’t everybody? But it’s just something we haven’t bothered to buy since moving up to the cabin. Maybe we just don’t want to know.
So when I walked out of the bathroom in a towel last night and my husband yelled out, “YOWZA”, I thought it was because he’d just come home from a two week shift at work. But alas, it wasn’t my smokin’ hot body that set him off. It was the GIANT BRUISE on the back of my leg.
It’s been over two weeks since the “BEAR INCIDENT” (long story short, a grizzly scared my boys up a tree, I jumped off the porch to save the day, and then remembered I am 42…)
In the weeks to follow what I assumed to be a strained hamstring, I’ve limped around doing my thing for the most part. There is just too much to do in an Alaska summer to stop for a little old sore leg. Okay, so excruciatingly painful leg, but still…lots to do. So I just limp around. I haven’t been able to shave the bottom half of my leg in weeks…the kids are now able to out run my wrath…and my bedroom is at the top of a steep ladder so I whimper a lot at bedtime…but other than that I’ll survive.
On Thursday last week after chewing out my son Anthony for leaving my drill out in the rain, I stomped off as only a mother can, towards my greenhouse to take a few breaths before I was minus one 13 year old. Just in front of the door I slipped on the mud and my legs went opposite directions as I hit the ground on my back.
The howling and screaming that came from my mouth as I fell and re-injured my hamstring, paid the boys back for scaring the tar out of me when the bear put them up a tree. They all came running, assumedly, to bury my crumpled body. But I was still alive on arrival, so they just stared at me lying in the mud, rain pelting my face, as I clutched my leg and cried.
Last night after discovering my thigh looks like plump plum, I did some Googling and discovered the bruising could be indicative of a larger issue with the muscle. As stubborn as some of us are about going to the doctor…I just called and made an appointment. I’ll report back to let you all know if they had to amputate. 
