You know, in nearly 20 years of various levels of drunkenness, I usually managed to escape unscathed. Maybe a few bumps and unexplained bruises, but never anything catastrophic. So, yesterday, I was walking outside to have drinks and snacks on the patio with the fam when my ankle rolled. At first, I was all “ehhh, no big, that happens a lot, let’s just get some ice on it and get on with our day” but yesterday’s event was waaaaay different. I couldn’t put weight on my foot AT ALL, which was unusual, and even with ice and a wrap, the swelling kept getting worse.
I tried to rock-star it out, hoping I could wait until morning and go to urgent care and not the emergency room, but I could NOT get comfortable and it would not stop being pretty much the worst pain ever (and that includes my c-section, for which I took zero drugs). So I got over my minor anxiety attack/freakout over how much an ER visit is going to cost us, even with insurance, and dragged my cute little family to the hospital at midnight.
Getting from the house to the truck was amazing. I can’t put any weight at all on my foot, nor can I hop around because my right foot is broken and my left knee is arthritic so I’m basically fucked. But I managed to get in the truck, and we got me into a wheelchair at the hospital. I did all the registration business then we waited a bit until the nurse called me in and took my vitals, etc. Then I was wheeled into a room, managed to transfer myself to a bed, and we waited.
Luckily, “I Love You Man” was on TV, so that distracted us all while we waited. The nurse came in and did a check of my foot and determined where the pain was, then the doctor came in to do the same thing. I got wheeled out to the x-ray room so we could find out for sure. I have had so many x-rays this past year that I am starting to look like Lou Ferrigno. Once that was done, I was wheeled back and then we waited some more. More more more more more waiting. Lots more waiting.
The doctor came in and was all “yep, that foot is broken! You get a cast and crutches!”
They eventually came back with the cast doodads. My leg was wrapped in cotton padding gauze stuff, then they had this weird plaster thingus that gets wetted down, the formed to my leg and then the whole contraption is wrapped in bandages. It hardens as it dries and will help keep my foot stable and comfortable until I can go see the orthopedic specialist. Ugh.
Eventually, I signed all my discharge papers and crutched my gimp ass out to the truck. Since it’s my right foot, it makes getting in the passenger side v. challenging, but I managed it. Did not do so well with steps, though. Steps require a level of confidence in my athletic abilities that is juuuuuuust not there. Lots of crawling going on, but thankfully it’s only two steps. Once I’m in the house I can get up the indoor stairs on my ass like a normal person.
We finally got home around 3AM. Once Jillian was re-settled in her bed, I managed to get upstairs and get in bed with the foot elevated and a Percocet in my system. I was able to sleep at last!!
This morning has been challenging. I was in desperate need of a shower but I did the best I could and got all the major areas of funkitude worked out. Now I’m stuck here on the sofa, ordering my family around. I feel bad because I don’t like to be incapacitated (and indeed, I have no idea how I’m going to drive Jillian around starting next week, but I’m sure I’ll think of something), but there’s nothing else for it.
Tomorrow will be a festival of fun, calling various doctors to see if one can see me ASAP. I’d like to know if I’m going to be in a cast for awhile or if I can maybe get in a boot of some kind because I have shit to do, man!