Seattle 86, or Ice. Rest. Elevate.

The first time, it was on a ski slope. The second, in the woods of southern Vermont. This time, it's at work. On a staircase. I'm trying to avoid stepping on a kid, misjudge the distance, and go flying sideways down the stairs.

In midair, I hear a distinct pop in my left knee.

By the time I hit the ground, I know it's happened again. The pain is familiar - acute, ripping, the feeling of an anterior cruciate ligament tearing itself in two. I hear the kid screaming: "Is she okay? What did I do?! Dane, are you okay?? I'm so sorry!" She sounds a million miles away. So do the staff voices, "Dane, we're here. Talk to me. What do you need?"

I come back to the present. Ice. I need ice, and I need to get out of the way - all the kids will see me lying here in the hallway. Someone brings me an ice pack. I prop my leg up on a laundry basket. Elevate. Ice. Rest. I've moved myself next to the laundry room, out of direct sight. Someone comes and says "Can you walk if I help you? Let's get you up to the office." I can walk, with help.

In the office I start going into shock - shivering hard, as my body rushes to investigate the injury, forgetting to keep me warm. All the staff are outside, keeping things calm. I call my friend in California who's been there for the last two injuries. "I'm in crisis, I'm in shock. Help me make a plan."

Together, we come up with: blankets, for the shock. A ride to the ER. Get a housemate to meet me there. Make sure they bring the Rescue Remedy.

Someone comes in to check on me, brings a blanket and some paperwork. I start on it right away. It helps me calm down, focus. I'm pretty good in a crisis. I call Joel, Neal, Masha. No answers. I call Asya. She picks up on the first ring. She'll get help, she says. Sebastian will run down to Aleph and get everyone's attention, someone will meet me at the hospital. I call my boss, explain what's going on.

My coworker offers me a ride down. I bundle up, borrow a pair of crutches from work - they're meant for a kid, but I can use them for now. She drives me to the ER, which is calm, not busy at all. It looks very new. The lighting is soft, the intake workers are friendly. My brain is scrambled. My coworker gets the worker's comp paperwork started for me. Thank G-d she can remember the phone numbers. She leaves once I'm set up and waiting.

Joel and Debs come in a few minutes later. They've brought cookies, and a big thermos of tea. They settle in, assuming the wait will be long. Debs walks me to the bathroom. A few minutes after I get back, Neal shows up, with DVDs. As soon as we've all said hi, the nurse comes to get me. I hobble down the hallway, leaning on Joel.

Debs helps me get into the hospital gown. Masha arrives, her backpack stuffed with games, my Rescue Remedy, chocolate, a stuffed hedgehog puppet. Everyone's laughing, taking pictures, making jokes. The nurse looks a little surprised, says the doctor will be in shortly.

It isn't more than fifteen minutes before the doctor comes in. She listens, performs a few tests. I know this part of the drill. She says my knee seems fairly stable, but I remember this from last time; the swelling after the tear immobilizes everything, making it seem stable. She says this is possible. I should make an appointment with the surgeon tomorrow. I know the guy. He gave me a post-op checkup right after I moved to Seattle. I like him.

She fits me for a pair of crutches and sends me home with the same old instructions: ice. elevate. medicate. Not much, just ibuprofen. I'm dismayed at how easy it all seems now. It's been less than a year since the last time. My body falls into the old patterns of movement, of compensation, with alarming ease. My right hip aches familiarly from the weight already.

The Kibbutzniks drive me home. Debs is coming over tomorrow with a thick bone marrow soup. Masha says call when I get up; she'll come tell me stories. Joel and Neal offer whatever they can do.

I'll be calling on them for a lot in the next few months. Thank G-d I'm here. Thank G-d for them.

This time had better be the last time.