A Professional Athlete in the Making

As you may have figured out, members of my family tend to be a little bit challenged in basic coordination. Put simply, if falling on our asses or into the asses of other people1 was an Olympic sport, we would win it every four years. Hell, we could win the summer and winter versions of it, so it’d be like a medal-palooza every two years. Other clumsy families would be so freaking2 jealous.3 

Wait. What was this post supposed to be about? Oh, yeah. 

On Friday evening, Nana fell at the nursing home. They called us at seven o’clock on Saturday morning.4 There were assurances that she seemed to be doing fine. All that they thought was wrong was some bruising, which is another Olympic sport my family could dominate in.5 Nana was still able to get up and move around. 

They weren’t worried.

We weren’t worried. 

But Nana’s BFF was worried. Mary didn’t think her leg seemed okay, so she called my mom on Tuesday evening. Before my mom could call and let the center know that Nana’s friend was worried, the nursing home called to tell us that they were doing a Doppler study on her leg because (she started complaining about it hurting worse so) they thought there was a blood clot in it.6 But there wasn’t a single blood clot in her leg. Don’t start cheering about that because I’m being really literal. Nana had two blood clots in her femoral vein.7 Now, Nana is going on Xarelto, so obviously…

Nana is going to be the next major pro-athlete in the commercials. 

I’ve already shown just how much my family could kick ass if everyday things were Olympic events, so the pharmaceutical companies have got to call us, right? Right.8

I’m not sure if telling my doctor that I have yet another relative with blood clots would be a good idea. She may want to confiscate my norethindrone. That would be awful for everyone.9 And it would be a bloody mess. Literally.10 But I guess it’s a case of better red than dead.11 Though I guess it could end in my death via anemia or exsanguination.12 Yeah, so…bleh. 

But Nana’s totally okay, except for she’s on total bed rest until the clots dissolve.13

  1. Another story for another day. 

  2. Did I just do a faux obscenity? God, I hate those. I should’ve just said fucking

  3. Humble bragging is losers. 

  4. No words. 

  5. Be jealous. 

  6. Hey, look at yet another thing we excel at. 

  7. Go big or go home, amirite? 

  8. Given how wackadoodle some bloggers have been lately, I feel the need to point out that I don’t believe this crazy shit. Nana does have a clot. My family does have a history of those, easy bruising, and falling. 

  9. Don’t make me take my earrings out. 

  10. TMI, sorry. 

  11. Without the pro-Soviet or pro-Badgers implications. 

  12. Say that word ten times fast. 

  13. And I’m okay except my nightly Flexeril is making me a little weirder than usual. 

About Janet Morris

I'm from Huntsville, Alabama. I've got as many college credits as a doctorate candidate, and the GPA of some of them, too. I have a boss by the name of Amy Pond. She's a dachshund. My parents both grew up in Alabama.