Dammit, leg…

Please be forwarned: This post is likely more whiney and whingey than usual.  I already know and accept this, and if you can’t fathom or stand such things, skip over it.

On June 7th, 2015, around 10:00 PM, I broke my right ankle.  I was faffing about in a 6-inch stiletto heel on a 2″ platform (Delight-662 by Pleasers) and the center of gravity went to the right of my ankle… thus the shoe and my heel became a 9″ lever to a 250-lbs of gravity forced clockwise rotation.  It twisted so hard that I snapped my Lateral Malleolus, which is the bit of my fibula (the smaller lower leg bone) right net to my ankle.

I don’t remember quite how it happened…  I’ve told people I was trying to balance and put on the other shoe… I may very well have been doing the “one shoe on, one shoe off” clomp-squish game that’s always fun, all I know is that I felt the shoe slip out from under me and was on the ground before I could say “Oh Shit”… and my ankle was hurting and I was nauseated from the adrenaline rush.

I remember there had been a snapping noise.  I thought it might have been the teeny little strap coming out of the back of the shoe, but more than likely it was my bone. Needless to say, I had Eric help me wrap it up with an ice-pack and help me to bed where I elevated it.  The next morning I planned on working from home, posted to facebook about my swelling and inability to support weight, and most everyone commented “See a doctor”, so I had a neighbor drop me off at urgent care, got an x-ray, saw the break, and was scheduled with an orthopedist on Wednesday and sent out with crutches. The orthopedist deemed the break not-awful, gave me a boot and told me I was allowed to put weight on the foot in the boot as pain allowed and sleep outside the boot with foot elevated to help reduce some swelling. The ortho also told me not to use NSAIDs like Ibuprofin or Aspirin while the bone was healing as the swelling is good for the healing response. I get to go back on June 24th to do another x-ray to see how the bone is doing.

A little over a week later, the foot is hit-or-miss and seems entirely mood dependent. The worst time is the morning, Everything that had calmed down to “A bit irritated” the night before is flared up into full “Don’t touch me!” Mode. This includes my ankle, my armpits, and my hands (stupid crutches). This of course means I grump a bit (especially if I feel like I am running late for something) and earns immediate scolding from Eric in the form of “You shouldn’t have [anything other than stay home in bed with the foot elevated]!” The solution actually seems to be “Get as much done the night before as possible, so when you’re barely awake and groggy and everything hurts… you don’t have to move as much.” This is probably a good philosophy for life, and a good justification for Wallace-and-Grommet-Pee-Wee-Herman-Rube-Goldberg style wakeup systems that combine a carwash-for-humans with an outfit applyer and an automatic breakfast manufacturer.

There, I know I’m getting better. I’m imagining hairbrained systems that’ll drive Eric nuts.