The Charlie Bravo Story

Take a Knee, Pt I

“God, I hope that they can fix this”; both a prayer and a quote of exasperation…

Since it’s inception, the Casa and Charlie’s page have been always been intended as a place for good news, but the last few weeks have been quite the challenge. It started with a TIA, a “mini stroke”, which is the type of stroke one who is 5’6″ might have. The greatest shock was when that I realized that I couldn’t recall certain words, as words are some of my dearest friends. Thankfully, everything seems to have turned out just fine, although the subsequent nights filled with worry and realization of inevitable mortality were not in the least bit pleasant.

Then my knee came calling. I’ve had a “trick” knee going back to when I was a teenager. I remember coming home from the hospital after one attack and turning on the TV in preparation for a long recovery only to see the shuttle Challenger explode across the screen; I guess you can say that we’ve been acquainted for quite a while.

This seems to happen at the most inauspicious times. Usually, a quick shot of steroid is just what the doctor ordered and I’m rolling within a day or so; but not this time. The offending joint became inexplicably locked up with stabbing inflammation over a week ago, and I have been confined to the Casa ever since. The bad part is that we had just started fostering Chloe, and it’s nigh well impossible to wrangle a house full of obnoxious rescue dogs while teetering around on a pair of crutches. Or to stay self employed, for that matter.

When I found out that the next appointment available with the ortho doctor was over two weeks away, I thought that I would just go ahead and yark on myself . But things have a way of working out, and the ortho clinic is fitting me in. TODAY. At 1020, to be exact; my eyes actually started gleeking when I got the call. Because I’m tired of being useless, of sitting around poisoning my mind with Netflix and toxic social media. I don’t want to have to take Chloe back to Novastar because I’m not capable of dealing with her antics. I’m sick of not being capable of working but watching Mom pull out of the driveway every morning.

But most of all, of not being able to write positively, due to the bad place my head is currently in, as positivity is what Charlie’s ministry is all about. It’s supposed to always be a party at the Casa.

So, keep the doctor’s hands and knowledge in your prayers as he attempts to find out “what’s up” this morning; it’s time for me to get back to work. Maybe he will be able to perform a miraculous trichnosis; get it? A “trick knee-osis”? I’ll be here all week, ladies and gentlemen; don’t forget to tip your waitstaff.

We be of one blood, ye and I

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