pop!
Dr. George O’Malley checked out my recently twisted ankle—then made biscuits on my stomach.
George is, of course, my cat, named after one of my favorite characters from Grey’s Anatomy. Georgie has no medical experience just like Leo McGarry has no governmental experience, even though he’s named after the president’s chief of staff in The West Wing.
Propped atop two pillows, my ankle is wrapped and iced. George may be of very little help, but my sweet husband is taking good care of me. He’s like this even when I’m not mostly immobile—yesterday he said, “I’m eagerly waiting for you to tell me the next thing I can do for you.”
Earlier today, we were on our way out to run errands when I stepped down from the staircase and twisted my ankle hard. I heard a loud pop.
This is my second twisted ankle in as many months, and I knew immediately this would be bad again. I sat down on a step and waited for nausea and black spots in my eyes to pass, a dramatic reaction to pain I’ve developed in the last few years.
With Loui’s help, I hobbled back upstairs. He settled me in then went to run our errands alone. In the hour while he was gone, I received three “You have to go to the doctor” texts from my mom…so we went to the doctor.
Their method of treatment for a hurt ankle.
We’ve confirmed there’s no break or fracture and have received instructions to treat it as a sprain (which we would have done even if we didn’t go to the doctor—but at least we know).
As I type this, we’re watching The West Wing (season 6, episode 19, “Ninety Miles Away”); it’s Loui’s first time watching the show that I love perhaps more than any other. It’s been a joy to watch Loui love this show along with me.
A few nights ago, we went to see Wicked, a wonderfully fun movie. I’ve seen the stage musical twice—once with Gram, Pop and Aunt Shannon on Broadway during my high school graduation trip to New York City, and once with Loui and friends in Louisville last fall. It’s been special to me across many years and eras of my life now.
Speaking of eras, Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour soon comes to an end, so I’ve been thinking again about our sparkling experience at the concert last summer. I recently read—and cried my way through—Heartbreak is the National Anthem by Rob Sheffield, a documentation of Taylor Swift’s impact on the music industry.
Yesterday I finally visited Set and Setting, a teeny tiny bookstore in Louisville that I have followed on social media for a while now. One of the books I bought was Poster Girl by Veronica Roth, author of the Divergent series. I would joke that it reminds me of my peak fandom days, but a fan is still one of my favorite things to be. It’s so much fun to love teams, books, characters, movies, authors, celebrities—and my cats, of course.
If you haven’t caught it yet, this newsletter’s slightly silly theme is pop—the pop culture that I adore, my beloved grandfather Pop who took me to NYC a few years before he died, and the frightening pop sound my ankle made earlier.
So this is your reminder to indulge a bit in what you love. Stay up late finishing that book. Go see Wicked for the first or second or sixth time. Listen to Taylor Swift, or whatever other music has swirled itself into all of your poems. And for goodness’ sake, protect your ankles.