I broke my ankle about a year and a half ago, and boy, did that suck.
Let me set it up for you. I was out having some cocktails and wearing sandals with a really steep heel. Because I am short like a Smurf, I sometimes try to pretend that I'm actually not a midget by wearing shoes with a heel. Well, that's what I did before I broke my ankle. I don't do that anymore. I had a very emotional goodbye with several pairs of shoes after the "incident."
But I digress. So, I'm hanging out at the Sports Page, a lovely watering hole in a double-wide trailer, and I'm about to leave. Before I leave, I yell inside to one of my friends, being oh, so clever, and when I turn around, I trip over the handicapped (oh, irony) ramp, and all of my weight lands on my left ankle.
At this point, I just feel stupid, as I don't think anything is broken, and at least 10 people have just witnessed my utter clumsiness. As I try to get up, I think, "hmm..that hurts, but it can't be broken."
At the same time this is happening, an after-hours party is being organized, that for some reason, I just have to go to.
Enter my logical friend Simon who tells me, "Emily, you need to go to the emergency room, I think, or at the very least, go home." I'm not having it. I tell him I'm going to the party whether he takes me or not, that I'm fine and quit trying to tell me what to do.
So, I go to the party, which was, incidentally, NOT worth it, and I have to be carried inside and placed on the couch, because I seriously cannot put weight on my ankle.
Finally, at something like 4 a.m., I decide I'm ready to go home and have to again be helped to the car. Simon takes me home, and he has to help me struggle to the door, while we argue about the intelligence of my having gone to the party.
This was all put into sharp perspective the next day when I got out of bed and literally fell onto the floor, then realizing perhaps something was indeed wrong with my ankle. To add insult to injury, I had to call Simon to help me when I had insisted the night before I didn't need any help. My dog, Norton, will always have a special place in his heart for Simon, who took him outside, as I was unable to, and he relieved himself for about five minutes straight. (the dog, not Simon)
It was broken, I found out the next day when I went to the doctor, and I had to wear a bright red cast for three weeks, followed by a boot for another three weeks. I had to shower with a bag over my cast, I fell about 15 times with my crutches, and I had to send my dog to my parents because I couldn't walk him.
It was not a fun time, but I did lose some weight, because hoisting my body around for six weeks was the most exercise I had done in a while.
So, the moral of the story is that I don't wear heels anymore, and I understand that being stubborn is not always the best way to handle a situation.
3 comments:
one can only wonder why no mention was made of the state of the union address in todays posting. perhaps the yellow dog has found no flaw in the content...no, that can't be it. perhaps she has equated the pain of the broken ankle to the pain of realizing her political party is spinning around in the porcelain bowl of it's destiny. it was only a matter of time. everybody breaks a bone or two in life, some do it by tripping over a handicap ramp while others may do it by jumping on the bed and then hitting a radiator. life is funny that way. if i were the president i would have had the yellow dog in the gallery last night for the state of the union address. i would have introduced her and explained how she was wrongly attacked by those evil handicapped people. i would have made a call for national handicap ramp removal. how many more broken bones should we tolerate before we act? enough is enough i would say. but then again, if i consistently made such ridiculous statements and calls to action i too would end up in that porcelain bowl and share my fate with the DNC.
You are just so funny, I don't know what to say. I may still comment on the State of the Union, but at this point, I didn't feel like it. However, a friend of mine sent me something yesterday that I found amusing.
"Today is Groundhog Day and the State of the Union Address. As Air America Radio pointed out, it is an ironic juxtaposition: one involves a meaningless ritual in which we look to a creature of little intelligence
for prognostication -- and the other involves a groundhog."
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