So, yesterday, it was raining, as it is wont to do here in the Seattle area. One of the worst things about the rain here, other than the overtly oppressive suicidal tendencies that it brings out in even the cheeriest among us, is that rain + eyeglasses = not fun. Have you ever tried to get water spots off of glasses? You might as well try to find a nice girlfriend for Liberace.
I mean, really? What girl wouldn’t be all over that? (BTW, I just interrupted the writing of this blog post for 15 minutes watching Liberace videos on YouTube. He was quite the fruitcake (hold the nuts) but man, could he play the piano.)
Anyway, last night, it was raining. And I was running across a parking lot to get back to my car. I also wear glasses, since I have an active, passionate loathing of contacts and sticking things in my eyes (but that’s another blog post.) In order to prevent my glasses from getting all spotted up, I tucked my head, and ran toward the car. Along the way, I happened to trip over one of these stupid things.
Or, more accurately, the tip of my shoe landed on the edge of one of those stupid things, and in the process, my foot got folded back so far my toes were nearly touching my shin.
I won’t tell you the words that came out of my mouth, but it was something along the lines of "Dang it. Poo. That smarts!" Or something. My memory of that night is a little hazy.
It did, in fact, hurt, as would be expected in any such situation. But I was able to drive home, and spent the next four hours playing video games and simply enjoying the last few fleeting moments of my freedom before I had to prostitute myself again go back to work. While the ankle was certainly tender, I was able to walk on it–even taking Luke out for his evening constitutional (is that what they call it these days?) before bed. I went to bed at midnight.
At about 1AM, I awoke in excruciating pain. Epic, miserable pain. My ankle hurt so badly I found myself whimpering involuntarily. It hurt to leave it still, it hurt to move it. And worst of all, I could feel myself going into a mild shock. I started shivering and trembling. (Luke was laying on the bed and it freaked him right the hell out. He started trying to calm me down by licking my hair. It was gross, but also very sweet.) I was so cold, and I couldn’t get warm.
My ankle wasn’t bruised, and had very little swelling, but it was very hot to the touch. I had pain radiating half-way up my shin, and over the top of my foot down around the ankle to my heel. I could feel it just throb with pain…a sensation I don’t know that I’ve ever experienced before.
I pulled back the covers and went to go get a couple of extra blankets, and the instant my injured ankle hit the ground, I collapsed in a heap with another mild exclamation ("Fudgesicles," I think I said.) I couldn’t put any weight on my injured ankle at all. I hopped to the bathroom, got a couple of blankets and about 800mg of Ibuprofen, and went back to bed, where I spent the next two hours shivering, in a significant amount of pain, and wondering if I needed to go to the hospital.
Here’s the problem, though: I drive a stick shift. It’s REALLY hard to drive a stick with one functional foot. And by hard, I mean impossible. And I wasn’t about to start calling up people at 2:30AM to take me to the hospital over a mangled ankle. So, I posted an update on Facebook just to take my mind off of how miserable I was, and eventually I went back to sleep.
This morning when I woke up, I was fully prepared to call someone and ask for a ride to the doctor’s office. I even called my parents and asked them if a broken bone is something you can go to a doctor’s office for, or if you need to go to a hospital. (My last broken bone was 26 years ago…I don’t remember it so well.) After I got off the phone, I got out of bed, and I was able to put weight on my leg again. The ankle was still very tender, but I was okay.
I ended up going to work, and hobbling around most of the day. As the day progressed, the muscles relaxed a bit, and I am now back to about 1/2 speed on my walking. I can even rotate my ankle slightly without discomfort. I can tell that the muscles are still very tight, and that, if I were to pivot on that ankle, it would hurt like a mother, but I’m taking it slow.
The whole experience freaked me out a little. When it comes to little hurts and scrapes, I tend to be fairly stoic about the pain. After I had my (less than successful) hair transplant surgeries, I didn’t even use my painkillers. (Well, I used them, but not for the pain associated with the surgery. Demerol or Vicodin knock the socks off of a Tylenol PM in the sleep aid department.) I mean, don’t get me wrong, I complain about pain a lot (like after a workout, when I want to look all impressive), but I know that I’m being a drama queen and just playing it for all it’s worth. I totally get that. But this time, it was different. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt that kind of physical pain in my life before. I was mentally trying to figure out how I was going to manage to pay for the X-Rays and hospital visit because my crappy insurance wouldn’t cover it until I had blown through my $2,000 deductible.
I’m glad that everything appears to have worked out fairly well. At the rate I’m going, I figure I’ll be back to normal on my ankle by Wednesday or Thursday at the latest. This was a learning experience for me. In review:
- It’s always better to just take off your glasses if you have to go out in the rain.
- Look where you’re going
- Once again, I have proof that those 5 years of dance classes in college were a complete waste of money.
- I should have gotten the automatic transmission instead of trying to save $1,000 by getting a stick shift. I knew I hated driving a stick.
- Dogs are the best when you’re feeling vulnerable, scared, or in pain
- Miracles sometimes even happen to the heathen among us
- If you’re limping, just be prepared to be asked about 5,839 times a day why you are limping
- Companies that don’t provide their employees (who have been working there for 2 1/2 years…I’m just sayin’) with decent medical insurance should be ashamed of themselves–it’s called loyalty.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to wrap up my ankle and go to bed…and hopefully this time, I won’t wake up whimpering in agony.
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