My so-called journal

Today as I was crossing the Bowery at 4th street, I tripped and fell. No biggie, I thought—except that I couldn't get up easily. A passerby tried to help me and I insisted I was okay.

The pain made me scream, though—I couldn't help it. I got to the other side and called 911.




The operator told me to sit down on the curb while I waited. I said I couldn't; my knee was locked.

They think it's dislocated, not broken, but I'm waiting for an X-ray right now. The nurse just brought me a Motrin.