I hate to do this because whenever Laurie Lindeen is mentioned that freaky freak freak show with all the fake names comes out to play, but if you’re not reader of Ms. Lindeen’s blog (and, you know, you should be because it’s really well written), you might take an interest in her latest post, which mentions this:
Middle-aged husband injured playing a child’s game. I don’t blame him a bit. Sometimes you’ve got to push back against time.
“You look familiar, have we met?” says the orderly wheeling he and his very swollen foot into a holding area.
“Nah,” my husband says.
I peek behind the curtain to assess our surroundings.
My totally wild, speculative guess? He slid playing kickball in the front yard with the young’un and twisted his ankle.