By June Mathews
March has not been kind to the Mathews household. No, it has nothing to do with one of our favorite teams being eliminated in the third round, even though we were awfully proud of them for advancing that far (Go, Blazers!).
Our troubles began when I ended February and began March with a king-size case of the winter crud, an account of which I inflicted upon readers in my last column and don’t intend to rehash here. But just as I was really beginning to feel better, I sprained my ankle during a graceless slip-and-fall incident at a local restaurant.
Right after it happened, I was able to get back up and walk fairly normally for the time being, but while we were eating stiffness set in, and I limped to the car. Fortunately, elevation and an ice pack on the aching ankle for the rest of the evening arrested further harm, and though it still feels a bit sore in the mornings and after I’m on my feet for a while, it’s slowly healing.
On a side note, Jimmie later chastised me for hauling myself up off the floor too quickly.
“If you’d stayed down long enough for the manager to notice, we could have gotten a free meal,” he whined.
“Well, excuse me,” I retorted. “I’ll try to do a better job of injuring myself next time for the sake of a tenderloin sandwich on the house.”
But my relatively minor ailments pale in comparison to Jimmie’s latest health issue. When he came home from work one night last week complaining of minor pain and swelling in his right leg, I suspected a visit to the emergency room was in the offing. He’d had similar symptoms last spring, and blood clots were the cause.
I was desperately hoping, however, that this latest leg issue was simply the result of him limping around on a messed-up toe that an upcoming appointment with a podiatrist was supposed to fix. But the next morning, the leg was worse. Then when he mentioned he’d been experiencing some shortness of breath, I figured a sore toe was the least of his problems. We hightailed it to the ER.
Turns out Jimmie had not only another huge clot in his leg but multiple small clots in his lungs, and had we waited to seek medical help, this story could be ending on a much more somber note. As it is, one eight-hour ER visit, a whole lot of blood thinner and three days of monitoring in intensive care later, we’re both back on our normal routines and feeling much better, physically and emotionally.
I have to say, though, until the last few days of March are over I’ll be on pins and needles, wondering what the rest of the month might bring. And if it ends for us as badly as it started, I’m marking March off the calendar for 2016. I figure that’s the surest way to avoid another month of madness like we’ve been experiencing this year. Winter crud, sprained ankles and blood clots are the kind of fun and games I can do without.
Email June Mathews at firstname.lastname@example.org.