Oh, hello there.

Before you get too excited about the title, I’m fine.  But the following is my first story of ridiculosity for the new year.  Yay, 2012!  Also, the photo above is an old photo at a different barn with a different horse, but that’s what I’ve got, friends, that’s what I’ve got.

Oh, also you should know that I’m writing this Monday night and setting it to publish Tuesday morning, so Tuesday I’ll give you an update.

SO.  Here is the story.

I had a riding lesson tonight.  And it was great.  I was riding a horse I’ve ridden a couple of times before, and she is a super sturdy, reliable-type horse.  As in, she does NOT like to move forward.  So much so that I use spurs while riding her.  And last time I rode her, I couldn’t even make her trot by the end of the lesson, I was so exhausted.

According to my teacher, though, there was just something in the air tonight, as all the horses were acting nutso.

When my lesson started, things were going great.  I felt sturdy, and everything was working, and all was good.  And then it was time to practice jumping.

I haven’t jumped since last time I fell off, so I was just going over poles that were flat on the ground.  Really take a moment to imagine this, as it will make the next part of the story even more laughable. FLAT ON THE GROUND.  In fact, let me give you a visual:

That is totally not me, just a random photo of a kid going over trot poles to illustrate how not a big deal this should have been.

So, the horse, Argyle, and I are headed for the poles at a nice leisurely trot, when she decides: “Oh, eff you.  I’m not walking over that,” and stops.  That is poor, poor horse behavior, so my teacher insists that I make her go over the poles, one way or another.  The horse is not allowed to win this one.  But Argyle resists, and resists, turning her head, and trying to move backwards (because seriously, we are stopped about six inches from the pole, and there is just nowhere else to go).  Finally, my teacher comes over, and smacks the horse on the butt.  Now the horse realizes she’s busted.  The teacher got involved, after all.  And the next time I give her a little kick to move forward over the poles, girlfriend basically says: “Oh, you want me to go over the poles?  I’LL GO OVER THE DANGED POLES!”

And she straight up JUMPED from a standing position.

I was not expecting this and went toppling to the side.  You know, off the horse.

On my way to the ground, I manged to whack my knee into the side of my chin.

Let me repeat that for you, because I don’t think you quite imagined it like you should have.  I mean, I was there, I did it, and I still can’t really picture what happened.

I whacked my own knee into the side of my own chin.

And then I landed on my butt and the horse ran off.

Now, mind you, I did this move in front of my teacher and about six fifteen year old girls who happen to be my classmates.  I didn’t get hurt in the fall, but my chin did hurt, and I did exclaim several times: “I kicked myself in the face!  How did I do that?”  And then I went charging after the horse, occasionally yelling; “YOU PUNK!” Then I got back on and continued my lesson.

My teacher checked that I still had all of my teeth, and around that time I realized that my jaw was just a little bit busted.  Busted as in my teeth didn’t quite close. It didn’t hurt, though, so I figured it would just pop back into place.

I finished my lesson, put the horse away, and came home, and my jaw still wouldn’t shut.  I did some brief googling to figure out what to do, and that was not helpful, so I called the advice nurse at Kaiser, thinking they’d tell me something like: warm compress, Tylenol, jaw stretches.

Instead, after trying to explain what happened, one nurse referred me to the next nurse who brought the doctor on the phone.

“It sounds like you have broken your jaw,” he says.  “You need someone to drive you to the emergency room immediately.”

Now, clearly, my jaw is not broken.  One, I’m not in any pain.  Two, Doctor-Man, I’m talking to you on the phone in a calm and normal voice, OBVIOUSLY my jaw is not broken.

“Well,” he says.  “This is a serious head trauma and you need to go to the emergency room.  Immediately.  And don’t drive yourself.”

I couldn’t make him understand that the only trauma my head had was from my own knee.

But he had me all shook up, so I called my mom, thinking she’d say: “They’re idiots.  Warm compresses and tea and go to bed and your jaw will be fine in the morning.”  Which did not happen, she also said to go to the ER.

So I was angry.  I just knew that now I’d be getting unnecessary CAT scans and spending seven hours in the ER.  But everyone said I had to go, so I called my friend Angelina to tell her what was happening, and ask her to be on-call for dog care, packed two books and a scarf, and drove myself to the ER.

“Head trauma” is a real key word in the ER, and so even though I had only kneed myself in the face (I know, I know), because it was combined with a fall from a horse, I got some speedy treatment.  So speedy that I wondered if the nurse thought that the HORSE had kicked me in the face (which really, would be so much more believable, but isn’t what happened at all.)

I walked in, checked in with the triage nurse, and then went directly to X-Ray.  Do not pass Go, etc.  This was a much quicker turn around than the time I had to take myself to the ER for a busted appendix.  Anywho, they took about ten X-Rays of my head, and then brought me back to the doctor.

He checked out my jaw in a variety of ways, and agreed that it was messed up.  “How, again, did you do this?” he asked.

Fortunately or unfortunately, while my jaw is busted, it isn’t busted enough to do anything with it.  He thinks it is just seized up and will eventually relax and go back into place.  In the meantime, he offered me a prescription for Vicodin, which I am not planning to use, as I don’t have pain.  I am currently treating myself with a beer, macaroni and cheese, and a chocolate bar, and hoping that tonight while I sleep my jaw will magically shift back into place.

Wish me luck!