The Tree & My Knee (Conclusion)

[Howard4567@aol.com]

I take a deep breath and, somehow, I'm able to stop myself from losing 
consciousness.  This is turning out to be one helluva crappy day.  I gather 
up enough strength to sit up but, instantly, I have to lower my head.  When I 
look up I see Dance Line and the hundreds of pine trees spin around me as if 
I'm in the center of a forest and horse merry go-round.  Round and round they 
go.

I don't know how long it's been since we ran into that tree.  An hour, maybe 
longer.  I can feel my knee swelling and I'm afraid to take a look at it.  
Looks like I'm going to be able to test out my retired Military medical 
insurance if I ever make it home today.  I'm hoping morphine is going at a 
discounted rate.  I have my prescriptions filled at Wal Mart (where else) so 
that should help.

I realize that it will be getting dark soon and I'd better try and stand up 
and get home.  Snakes and gators come out in the dark of night where I live 
and I'd just as soon not be here, sitting on the ground with no ability to 
fight or run.  I may be a wounded endurance rider, left on the ground for 
dead, but I have no intention of ending up that way.  Besides, I have a ride 
to attend in less than two weeks.  haha.

I reach up and grab my right stirrup.  I pull on it really hard to try and 
get my body off the ground.  As I pull, harder and harder, I hear a 
riiiiiipppppppp, which scares the heck out of me cause I think it's coming 
from part of me somewhere.  The stirrup, synthetic fender and strap all give 
way and tear right off the saddle.  I guess the tree must have torn away this 
part of my saddle the same time it tore off my knee.   Down on the ground my 
butt goes, my bad knee hits the turf right after my butt, a rush of pain 
flashes like lightning from my knee to my brain and I let out another scream. 
 Dance Line doesn't even flinch this time, I guess he's used to the noise by 
now.

In anger I throw the stirrup and fender off into some bush.  I look up at my 
horse and tell him we need to get home.  Slowly, I pull up on the reins, and 
try and stand up.  I'm able to get up on my left knee.  I ask Dance Line to 
lower his head.  He does.  I put my hands around his neck, locking my fingers 
near his poll, and he lifts me clear off the ground.  What a horse!

Dane Line just happens to have his front legs in a low lying area.  I take 
advantage of this and put my left leg in the only remaining stirrup.  My knee 
lets me know that it will not be ignored, anytime I make any kind of motion 
with my body.   I gather up enough courage to make that upward movement 
getting my body above my left foot and next to Dance's left side.  I lean my 
chest over his back and my head looks at the ground below the right side of 
my horse's body.  And then the ground starts spinning; I'm going for another 
ride on that merry go round.

I'm afraid I might pass out again, which gives me the incentive to make the 
final motion with my right leg, I get it over the saddle, minus the stirrup, 
and yell out again in pain.  This gets Dance Line going and he starts forward 
in a fast trot, which kills my soon to be deceased knee.

I pull him back right away and let him know we'll be walking home.  The rain 
continues, I think it's been raining the entire time since my knee met the 
tree, and I'm soaked to the bone.  I start to shake, wondering if it's from 
the cold or if my body is going in to shock.  I feel confident we'll make it 
home, if I can remain conscious, but we still have to cross that busy road 
between the forest and my house.  And it's rush hour traffic which should 
only add to the excitement.

We get to my killer highway and I can see it's busier than normal; semi's and 
cars flying down the road, bumper to bumper.  It just happens to be close 
enough to race week here in Daytona and all the NASCAR fans are out and 
about; and most of them don't like to slow down.  I would, normally, get down 
off of my horse to safely cross the road; but there's no way I'm getting down 
today.  I don't think I can get back up again and I sure as Hell can't walk.

Dance Line does not like car traffic.  We wait for a break, I end up putting 
him in circles.  He backs up towards the road and some guy slams his brakes 
and hits his horn.  A big truck going the other way reacts and swerves.  Both 
car and truck come to a complete stop, blocking both lanes of traffic.  Dance 
and I skedaddle across the road.  I didn't hear any metal crunching, but I 
don't look at the cars or the angry humans acting like I've completely ruined 
their day.  One of the drivers yells out, "Hey you," but I ignore him 
totally.  No time to stop and chat silly man, but I do appreciate your 
patience.

Well, that's about it.  I spent the weekend with bags of ice on my knee, 
which happens to be the size of a bowling ball, relegated to watching Jerry 
Springer's version of professional football.  And there's my favorite 
politician, the Governor of Minnesota (I must visit this state sometime to 
meet all the drunks who actually elected this guy), telling me how tough 
these guys on the field are.  I yell out at Jessie, in disagreement. I tell 
him, "I bet my Gators, third string, could take any of these sandlot 
players."   As I drink my beer, pop another pain pill, and study the color 
coordinated outfits of the XFL cheerleaders, I ask God, "Does it get any 
better than this?"  haha

cya,
Howard