So, yes, I haven’t posted in a couple of weeks because the only thing that’s really happened so far I’m tired of talking about… but here it goes.
Two weeks ago this past Thursday (on the same day of my last post as a matter of fact) I fell and broke my ankle. My left one. The same one I broke in New Orleans 11 years ago. So now, not only am I unemployed, but I’ve got a lovely red cast (although the color was my choice) on my left leg from my toes to just below my knee — a cast that I’ll most likely be wearing for at least another three weeks.
And I have crutches… there are no words that can express how much I loathe those metal monstrosities. To be saddled with this injury right here in the middle of summer — and right as I was starting back to the gym — is beyond frustrating.
I don’t even have a decent story to tell how it happened. As I sat in the orthopedic doctor’s office two weeks ago (this was after an initial trip to the ER on the Thursday before), my mom and I talked to one woman who had fallen while roller skating with her children over the weekend. She kept her daughter from falling, but tried to break their fall with her left arm — a selfless act that one would expect of a parent.
The woman who came in after her had slipped on a wet floor at church the day before and injured her right arm. Totally understandable.
Me? Well, I stepped off a curb wrong. That’s right my graceful self and I misjudged the height of a curb and my right ankle twisted while my left leg went out to the side and back. So there I was, splayed out on hot asphalt in 95-degree weather. Just call me “Grace.”
The plate and screws in the ankle joint from the previous break somehow stayed in place. The actual break is on the outside bone, just above the plate. I also have a torn ligament in the ankle, but, as is often the case, things could have been worse — Cinlach told me that my hair was touching the curb.
After taking a series of x-rays that involved the ortho doc twisting my ankle (which actually didn’t hurt as badly as it sounds), he gave me a choice of having surgery or trying a cast, with him working to mold it to help the break and ankle heal properly. I took the gamble and opted for no surgery.
On my second visit, this past Thursday, three more x-rays were taken, and he said that nothing has worsened, so he feels continuing without surgery is still okay. He also dropped a little bomb about how even after I get the cast off, I’ll be wearing a walking boot for another few weeks, and it’s going to be three months before I’ll be cleared to put full weight on my left leg. Grrr-eat.
There is also the possibility that this break will not heal correctly, and I’ll still need surgery. I’m readily accepting prayers, positive thoughts, crossed fingers, and wood knocking to fend off this possibility. I’m practicing all of those techniques as well.
But I will leave you on a positive note, I did have an interview for a part-time contract job at an international company that has offices a mere five minutes from my house. Things seemed to go well, and if all works out, I’ll be making as much money working 24 hours a week as I did working 40 hours a week at my last job.
And from now on, I’m walking up and down handicap ramps. No more curbs for me.