The past few weeks have been rather interesting, but mostly painful. Three weeks ago I fell on my daily walk to work. I should have known that there was something amiss when I couldn’t get the zipper on my favorite skirt to work. I could only get the zipper to come up to a certain point and couldn’t down far enough to shimmy it off. Once I discovered what the problem was it was a pretty simple fix. Duct tape. Zipper fixed and I’m headed out the door for another day in paradise (hope you read that with all the sarcasm that was intended).
I’m at the bus stop chatting with my bus stop buddies and well clue number 2, I should have stayed home was when the bus was late. Not a little late, but the next scheduled bus late and we were packed in there like freakin’ sardines. Once the bus gets to Civic Center Station, I’d pretty much had enough of the unintentionally groping or maybe it was intentional – either way I was over it. I exit along with a couple of my bus stop buddies. Instead of crossing the street and then having to cross back over, I decide to, along with others, to walk down the sidewalk with the big sign that says:
I’ve never really been good a following instructions and having said that I disregarded the sign and proceeded with what I thought was sufficient caution. I’m walking, earbuds in, and contemplating the first task I need to complete when I get to work. There is another sign, which I see and I see others walking around it and when I come upon it . . . Let’s just say I didn’t quite walk around it. I tripped over the legs and fell with such grace and fervor. I have to admit it was pretty spectacular. I think perhaps the best part of this collision was this, except I was on the ground screaming and writhing in pain.
There was a guy behind me who stopped, helped me up and got me to place where I could sit down. He stayed with me for a bit, then I shooed him away because I wanted to be in pain by myself.
One of the attorneys at work, bless his heart, took me to urgent care. He looks mean and nasty and like the stereotypical mafia Don, but he’s a really big softie. Urgent care deemed it a sprain and discharged me on over-the-counter ibuprofen and crutches. Yay! crutches. Boo over-the-counter ibuprofen. Whatever happened to dispensing narcotic pain medication like PEZ? When did the medical profession become so caring?
Three weeks later and now I’m in a boot – my latest fashion accessory.
Healing is taking a bit longer, but I guess that’s what happens when your orthopedist tells you that you have a stress fracture and you damaged ligaments and tendons in your ankle.
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