The Embarrassing Truth

Oops, I did it again.

SO.... I never really wrote about this.

Because it is embarrassing.

Last summer I sprained my foot and my ankle. Within a week of each other (both on a Tuesday night), and both in silly ways

The first to go was my foot.

I was walking in the kitchen and our fridge was having a problem and leaked a large puddle of water in the middle of the white floor, which I didn't see until I was in it.

I skidded and, still standing, my foot slipped right underneath the oven!

It wedged into that little inch gap between the floor and the oven drawer and then, with my foot still stuck in there, my whole body contorted and went down.

This all happened in about 3 seconds and Eli, in the other room, said he just heard a squeal, a big thud, and then silence.  He shouted out "Are you okay?!?!"

And a few moments later heard an agonizing "NOOOOOOO!"

I went to a specialist the next day who was chuckling as he explained that he has seen plenty of sprains in his time, but never a sprained foot.  So I was put in one of those awful, clumsy boots that I named "Booteus Maximus."

After having a rough time getting around on it and being frustrated that my summer had started off with such a crappy injury, a few friends offered to take me out to show my a good time.

So Eli and I and some pals went to our favorite local pub and proceeded to do an Irish Car Bomb and have a glorious evening!

The only fly in the ointment was that one of our friends brought along his bizarre and not-so-great new girlfriend (thank goodness they were only together for a few weeks).  

A few hours later we headed out to the car, which was parked curbside, and the mix of the car bombs and the boorish boot, I stumbled slightly on the curb and just went down.  Hard.

And snapped my other foot.

It hurt worse than the first one, and I collapsed into tears as my ankle started swelling.

In the ER, finding the oxygen humorous, I guess?

Then this nut-job new girlfriend decides to step in and use her limited medical expertise to help.
She was trying to yank off my sandal (and would have cut it, had she had scissors) and I was like "What are you doing?!" and she said "I've worked with old people, they fall a lot. We should take your shoe off!"  To which I threw my head back and howled "I'M NOT OLD!!!!!!!!!!"

Our driver took us to the Emergency Room and I got a wheelchair and a patient bracelet and then we waited for a loooooong time.  During which someone put those hospital masks on us.

They did the X-Rays and such and yep, another sprain.

Fulfilling the trashy ideal with my boot.

So the next couple weeks I had a boot, my faithful cane Violet, one sprained ankle, one sprained foot, and damaged pride to get by on.

It was pretty humiliating.

And a few weeks ago,

I sprained my ankle (yet again) in a stupid way.

And I'm just now fessing up.

We were at my father-in-law's house having one of his grand ol' barbecues, with all of my nephews and nieces galloping around.  And I am the Cool Aunt, so I'm always participating in their games and egging them on and hustling them outside to play football with me.

And they dug out their winter sleds for some reason and were trying to slide them down the stairs.

And me, being a responsible adult (not), suggested that they slide on the upstairs stairs, rather than the downstairs stairs.

Because the upstairs stairs are steeper.

Yes, I did.  

So they went on up and were flying off the landing and started shouting for me to come join them, and being a Stair Sledder from way back myself, I joyfully agreed!
I popped onto the sled behind my niece and lifted my feet off the floor, into her lap.  And off we went.

Our hair was flying, we were squealing, and right as we soared off the last few steps, she accidentally nudged my right foot out of her lap so it was hanging down when we smashed into the floor (and it hit the floor before the sled, so it took the brunt of it).

My heel hit first, and was at a terrible angle for such a crash.  It bloody KILLED.

I certainly damaged my Achilles.

I limped away, slammed a pack of frozen peas on the thing, and rode out the evening on grimaced smiles.  The next morning I conceded to Eli that it was baaaaaaad.  But it wasn't too swollen or bruised, and since I had the sprains last summer, I knew what the doctor would tell me about treating them and didn't want to pay a co-pay for free advice.

And I've been taking care of it since, with the help of ankle wraps and Violet the cane.

It still bothers me a bit, but it's doing good.

I just don't have any Stair Sledding in my immediate future.

Yes, I went to Vegas as a gimp.
And I would do it again--apparently being in a wheelchair gets you free Paul McCartney tickets!