So, there I was, just playing a little half-speed touch football in the gym. I ran to the side to tag somebody or intercept a pass or something, and I felt something pop in my right leg, just beneath my gluteals. I managed a controlled crash into the wall. Then I tried to get up. Nope.
I couldn't extend my right leg without excruciating pain. Couldn't stand on it. I managed to get up on a chair, and with the help of some other Scout leaders, cogitated upon the possibilities. In the end, we called 911 and I got to take my first-ever ambulance ride.
At the hospital, they pumped me full of painkillers and muscle relaxant and sent me home, half-looped. I was watching Iron Chef America, and the secret ingredient was eggplant. Next I looked, it was pizza dough. And Cat Cora had turned into Mario Batali.
Anyway, I've got some recovery ahead of me. And it could have been worse. I don't know yet what it's going to do all the things I had planned for this week. I suspect I'll be preaching while seated tomorrow (which is, after all, the ancient mode).
Ah, me. I was just posting earlier this week about how you know when the warranty's expired. Mine certainly has.