The Universe May Be Trying To Tell Me Something

When I was six I jumped backwards into a pool.  I didn't jump far enough back and I hit the side of the pool with my chin.  Which promptly started pouring blood.  We were on holidays in Hawaii and my dad promised to buy me a muumuu if I didn't cry while I got stitched up.  My tears magically dried up leaving not even a sniffle in their wake.  I don't have the dress anymore (which by the way was pink and floral and still one of my favourite dresses ever) but I have the scar under my chin to remember it by.

Fast forward a few years.  I was 12.   We were on holidays in Kamloops visiting family friends who had a pool in their backyard. I had been successfully doing back-flips off their diving board all afternoon and had just been told I could do one more before we left.  Contrary to what you're thinking right now I successfully executed that final back-flip.  But, and here's where it all goes downhill, my parents were still talking with their friends and I decided I had time for one more quick flip.  In my haste I didn't jump back far enough and hit the diving board with my chin and then my front teeth.  Which promptly snapped in half.  I was in some kind of trouble!  There was no offer of a dress this time and instead I had to endure three painful days of raw nerve endings and vampire fangs while we drove home to Smithers stopping in Prince George for a day to do our back-to-school clothes shopping.  I became obsessed with watching the way people talked analyzing how much much of their teeth they showed when they said certain words.  I can still remember my stomach flipping while I clenched my teeth tight and slipped a straw through the hole in the middle of my mouth.  I went the dentist as soon as we got home and after a couple of hours with my mouth in a dam I came out with a new set of front teeth. Just in time for school thankfully.

Fast forward a few more years to this past summer.  May to be exact.  The same month Hugh got laid off.  We took our kids to our local pool in the morning during the middle of the week.  The pool was practically empty and after doing the waterslide a few zillion we decided to warm up in the hot tub.  On our way back to the hot tub we passed the 5m diving board and the kids stopped to stare as a brave kid launched himself off it.  The look of awe on their faces is what prompted me to open my big mouth and say, "Mommy used to jump off diving boards this high."  Which prompted Hugh to bet me that I couldn't still do it, that I wasn't brave enough anymore.  Which is why I found myself at the top of a diving board that had somehow grown to be at least 10m during my climb looking way, way down at the water below.  My heart was pounding out the theme song to Jaws and I think I may have even seen a shark fin or two in the frothing and churning water.  Or the diving board was really only 5m and the water was perfectly calm and there wasn't a soul in sight.  Maybe.

It felt a lot higher than I remembered it being and I almost chickened out but then two things happened simultaneously: Hugh laughed and a lifeguard yelled, "Do it!"  So I jumped.  Forward this time.  I have learned a thing or two over the years.  I came up to hear my kids cheering for me.  The look on their faces was almost enough to make me ignore the ache in my arm.  But then the summer went on and my arm kept hurting.  It hurt when I dove into a friends pool.  It hurt when I tried to throw a baseball to the kids.  It hurt when I raised my arm up over my head.  I just kept thinking I'd pulled a muscle and it was taking it's own sweet time to heal.  A few weeks ago I absently reached around to scratch my back and yelled in pain.  Then I counted back and realized after 10 months my arm was still hurting.  This was no pulled muscle.  Turns out I injured my rotator cuff and did a whole bunch of nerve damage which is requiring a combo of physio and chiropractic care.  I have now had one treatment of each and currently feel bruised in all parts of my upper body.  Suddenly even my other shoulder hurts, the one I didn't injure.  Can't decide if this is psychological or not. Probably not.  In general I am a model of sanity, reason and all things non-dramatic.  Tongue exit cheek.

Anyway, the moral of the story is... Hmm, I guess there isn't really one.  Don't try to show off for your kids maybe?  That I should avoid diving and water and any combination of those things?  One thing I did learn is I am not a kid anymore.  I don't bounce back like I used to and a new dress isn't going to fix this.  Well it might.  It couldn't hurt.  I mean who's to say it wouldn't help, right?