Mom & Dad to the Rescue

Moving to a new apartment is both exciting and strenuous. For me, anything new is stimulating, but the arduous task of physically moving is exhausting. I needed to call in reinforcements.

Before my big move, I enlisted the help of my parents. When I broached the subject with them, my mother pointed out their physical inability to help my move. She volunteered them to come help me pack or unpack, but they were not lifting any boxes. I would never even consider the idea since neither of them are spring chickens.

I preferred they help me unpack because I would be able to pack over a long period of time, but I would need to have my apartment set up quickly for my holiday party. I also had a few major alterations I wanted to implement in the new place. I design a closet I would need to build to fit all my clothes. (This is where my inner gay comes screaming out).

They were set to arrive Thursday night in time to come watch my sister and I play in our weekly volleyball league. They were going to stay through the weekend, so my mother made lasagna and was bringing a turkey. We planned to go to the gym for our match and then have a late night dinner after.

The night before, Smiles offered for me to stay with him Thursday night since he knew my parents were staying with me. I graciously accepted since it would save me from sleeping on the couch when I gave up my bed for my parents. I thought it was really sweet of Smiles to notice that and offer a solution. He was also going into surgery the next day. While I was comforting him and put on a brave face since he was so worked up about it, I am always slightly concerned any time someone goes under the knife, especially when they’re being put under. I care a great deal about him, so I was thrilled to sleep with him the night before surgery.

My parents have seen my sister play volleyball in college, but had never seen me play. I was excited for them to be there. However, I was still exhausted. I could barely keep my eyelids open, as they felt like sandpaper, and I could barely lift my arms. We were doing fairly well, when out of nowhere, I came down on the side of my ankle after a hit. I knew as I was coming down to the floor it was a bad sprain. I’d sprained both ankles many times before running cross-country and playing tennis in high school. I was done.

I moved over to the bleachers to elevate my ankle and ice while my team finished out the matches. My mother took the opportunity to point out that I should have taken the night off. A sprained ankle couldn’t have come at a worse time. I still had a lot I needed to do that weekend. The only thing that could have made it worse was if it came the night before the big move.

My team fared well without me, and they all came over to console me after they finished. The sprain was bad, but I was able to walk on it. This wasn’t my first rodeo. I knew exactly what I was in for.

When I got home, my mother, who teaches athletic training to high school students, wrapped my ankle. I hadn’t told my parents yet, but I was still planning to ride into the city and spend the night in Smiles’ bed.

As we were waiting for the lasagna to heat up in the oven, I proposed my sleeping situation to them. They didn’t seem phased by it, but pointed out that I needed to be home in the morning at a reasonable hour. I told them about his surgery and how I would have to leave earlier regardless, but I wasn’t waking up until 9:00 anyway.

I was leery about the ride into the city. When I sprained my ankle, all I could think about was if it would limit my ability to shift gears on my motorcycle to ride into the city to Smiles’ bed. Luckily, I was still able to do so after wrapping it.

Smiles called to see when I would be coming into the city, and I told him I would arrive around midnight after we finished eating.

I got my parents settled, threw on sweats to head into the city and was on my way.

When I arrived, Smiles told me how long he had to go without eating or drinking anything, even water. He was a little worked up, so I did my best to calm his nerves. I told him to concentrate on his hot doctor instead. I was really hoping for one last throw down in the sheets since I knew he’d be out of commission for quite some time, but since it was so late, that wasn’t in the cards. Instead, after chatting a little bit about my ankle and his surgery, we dozed off in each other’s arms.

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

  1. Appendectomy « One Gay at a Time

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: