Monday, November 9, 2009

13 Ways of Looking at a Broken Leg


Six strong and strapping EMT's
Carry me down the outside steps
Welcome heroes and I owe them
Cookies, Station One and Station Three
When I am whole again.

Two legs casted, sticking out
When they operated, couldn't they
Have done a pedicure?

I am useless, I can't walk
Can't run out and get something,
Can't lean down, pick up something
I have to ask for help.

I have a wheelchair, it's black
And scarey, too, says Blue the cat.
Five other folks came home with me.
That's scarey, too, says Blue.

Two legs casted, sticking out
I can't make corners in our house.
Parking's never been my strength
I've got a lot to learn.

My chief caregiver's the best
The guy I married can never rest
He picks up this and gets me that
And don't forget to feed the cat
My poor Fred will celebrate
When my two cast legs ain't cast no more!

Two legs casted, sticking out
One is gray and wears a boot
(Although I'm told it can bear no weight
for another two months from now).
The other's red with matching toes
They are getting in my way.

Two legs casted, sticking out
Now and then bump into things
They sometimes seem to me
To be no part of me.

Two legs casted, sticking out
But if you take me knees to head
The rest of me is just the way
It always was, says Fred

Inside my two well casted legs
If one could look inside,
Not flesh and bone, but screws and nails
And screens and plates in there.
My doctor is a carpenter.

Two cast legs upon the bed
And one is gray, the other red
And each one weights 200 pounds
At least.

I should enjoy my two cast legs
They get me out of lots of stuff
How can I entertain Book Club
Or donate blood, or clean the house
With both my legs encased in casts?