Numb
Painkillers are the bomb. Stone cold sober following an icy skiing accident, my meds have made me numb and not just my ice packed knee. Other than the excruciating pain when my knee went crunch and pop while jumping the cross-country ski tracks to avoid a four-kid pileup ahead, my skis catawampus in a position that cracked my right knee like a wishbone, I've been numb. My numbness is almost robotic as I'm forced to sit on my ass all day, my leg elevated quivering and spasming when moved. Supermom is not an option and there's no arguing my catatonic state or immobilization brace. I'm numb to pangs of hunger. By noon yesterday I hadn't even had a warm cup of joe. "Hello, it's your mother, I'm still here," I call in an echo chamber, my five family members deaf from headsets they wear working online. Perhaps I'll 'Postmates' my lunch, I thought to myself, seeing my incapacitation as liberating. For the first time in my life, I've beco...