Okay, Tahiry, this one's for you! (Furthering your belief that we're completely nuts!)
This past Friday marked my one-week post-surgery anniversary. I'm not supposed to drive for the first two weeks due to the meds I'm taking, but why they didn't bother to tell me that when prescribing these very same pain killers over the last three years, I have no idea! So, obviously, the prospect of driving "under the influence" was not a concern for me. (Although, perhaps it should have been.)
So, with sufficient warnings that the road was very slippery, I headed out to a much-needed massage therapy appointment . . . shooting out the end of our driveway with little control over the steering . . . confirming that yes, it was, indeed, icy. I proceeded with caution. I encountered two snowmobilers so proceeded with even more caution and less speed. Then, when I was a-l-m-o-s-t out to the main road, I lost control on a corner. I compensated by throwing the wheel in the other direction. The car corrected . . . and then over-corrected and we were now out of control on the other side of the road. I twisted the wheel the other way, but nothing happened, and WHAM! We were up and over the small embankment between the road and snowmobile trail, and I was perfectly parked - sideways - on the snowmobile trail. Hmph! Attempts to drive out were futile. The ground was fairly firm underneath me, but one of the rear tires was caught in the softer, snowy embankment. If I shoveled just a little . . . .
Let me tell you, it took ALL my self-control to not grab that shovel out of the back seat and drop to my knees in the snow. But, I knew it was bad enough that I'd gotten stuck. If I shoveled in my "not supposed to lift anything for 6 weeks" state, I knew I would be painfully drawn-and-quartered by my husband, mother, father, and massage therapist. In that order. So, my only choice was to walk home. 4.2 miles, to be precise, but who's counting? (This picture is of the dogs in the distance on the walk. Beautiful Minnesota blue sky!)
It wasn't exactly the most ideal way to spend my one-week post-surgery anniversary, but I didn't hurt myself. I took it slow, it was a beautiful 15 degree day with the warm sun full on my back, and the dogs LOVED the unexpected jaunt. But, guess how many parties of snowmobilers passed me and failed to stop to offer help? Four. Ah, yes. At least they all cheerfully waved! (Grumble, grumble.) And, truth be told, I couldn't have really accepted a ride since I had the dogs, but an offer still would have been nice.