Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Ow! (01/07/10)
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TITLE: My Arthritic Patriots | Previous Challenge Entry
By Phee Paradise
01/13/10 -
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The Ravens return the opening kick-off for a touchdown and I lean forward and pound my legs. When the Pats let them score again, my leg muscles tighten even more. I shift my body and unfold my legs to ease the discomfort. A vice tightens around each knee as I lower my feet to the floor, but I ignore them. The Pats have just turned the ball over near the end zone.
“Ow,” I exclaim when a knife stabs my right knee. Wayne grunts, his eyes glued to the screen. I blink back sudden tears and throw a pillow on the floor so I can raise my foot to find an angle that will ease the pain. While I watch a prone player on the field being tended by a couple of trainers, I put a hand on each side of my knee and rub it gently. They go to commercial and Wayne sees my hands.
“Your knee again?”
I nod, pinching my lips together. “It’ll be okay in a few minutes.”
We turn back to the TV and watch the Ravens run over the Patriots. I yell at the players, but Wayne doesn’t move or talk. I think he’ll probably leave the room soon. He doesn’t like losing. My knee feels tighter, but I ignore it until half time. Nature calls while the commentators rave about the Ravens, so I push the pillow away and try to stand. The knife stabs my knee again. I slide to the end of the couch and put my hands on the end table, twisting as I push myself up onto my left foot. The knife has found a few friends and I fall back on the couch, leaning my head back.
Wayne leans over and puts his hand on my knee. “You should put ice on it,” he says. “I’ll get it.”
He knows I hate ice, but if I argue, he’ll explain how it stops the blood flow and why athletes use it and then he’ll put it on my knee anyway.
“Can you just help me to the bathroom first?”
I bite my lip when he pulls me up and puts his arm around my waist. Leaning on him, I try to hop across the room, but pain shoots down my right leg, and I gasp with every hop. When we get back, I drop down to the couch and lift my foot onto the cushion with both hands. Wayne gets a bag of ice. He drapes a towel over my knee, rests the ice on it and wraps an ace bandage around them both. I can feel the cold, but the towel makes it feel like snow instead of sleet. The Patriots complete a few short passes, then Brady throws another interception.
We watch the rest of the game in silence. My knee is cold and stiff and every time I move the knives stab. When the Pats’ kicker misses a field goal, Wayne grumbles something and leaves the room. I unwrap my knee while the Ravens score again. I put the ice on the table and roll up the bandage. My knee is cold. I move it carefully and don’t feel any knives. I stretch my leg out and point my toes. I lower my right foot to the floor next to my left foot. Neither knee hurts.
There is less than a minute left on the game clock and the players are already leaving the field. I reach for the remote and turn the TV off. I stand and walk out of the living room.
“There’s no point in watching the victory speeches,” I tell Wayne.
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