On Monday I was waiting for Shelly's bus while cooking lunch for the kiddos. I saw her bus out of the kitchen window and rushed out the back door to go meet it. Our back steps don't have a railing on them and they just go straight down out the back, but if you want to get to the front, it's easier to step off the side of the bottom step than to actually step off the bottom step correctly and then turn... One less step - I take all the short cuts I can. Well, this time was a bit different. I don't know if I was distracted and in a hurry because I didn't know how long the bus had been there (I glanced up from the stove and it was already stopped), or if it was because I wasn't wearing shoes and the ground felt different, or what, but I decided to take the one-step-shorter way to make myself visible for the bus so they would drop off Shelly, and stepped off the second step, instead of the last step. My foot landed with a lot more velocity and momentum than it had been expecting (I'm sure almost everyone has had the experience of missing a step they didn't see), which normally would have just been an annoying jolting experience, but somehow it also landed slightly off center, and it bent underneath me. I heard a good size pop and felt instant shooting pain. Then I heard the bus driver honking. I was behind the house, and he couldn't see me to make sure I was there for him to drop off Shelly (some school policy that they won't let kindergarteners off the bus without a parent present). I then had to hobble on what I was sure was a broken ankle about 3 yards around the side of the house to wave at the bus. Shelly comes running down the lane to ask me why I wasn't there waiting for her. All I could do was cry, wince, hobble back to where I could sit down, and have her go fetch me the phone. I called Mark in tears, informed him that I had just broken my ankle and wondering if he would be willing to put off studying for a bit in order to help me (I was glad it happened when he was studying at school and not at work - I don't know what I would have done if he had been at work). He packed right up, called his mother and sister to come help me (I'm not sure why my brain wasn't working enough to do that instead of disturbing him - my brain doesn't always think logically in crisis mode). They came over, took one look at my super swollen ankle and stuck me in the car. JB stayed to watch the kids for me, and Mom drove me to the ER where we met Mark.
Turns out it was just a really bad sprain. I get to stay off of it for a few days and then slowly get back to putting weight on it. Yup, looking forward to dealing with kids without a functioning foot! (or not...)
Here's a Facebook post of mine from earlier (let's try not the think about how lazy this makes me sound):
Darn crutches! I'll be excited to be able to walk again! My plan to wait until Mark got off work to have him change the baby's blow out diaper is failing... Too bad the time from blow out to getting off work was really more than 5 hours. Wishful thinking at his finest.
Thankfully my in-laws were awesome help, and I've been able to mostly just rest - which has sped up recovery. I can walk now - even a bit with just one crutch, but more than a few yards and my foot starts hurting again, so I try to stay off of it.
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