Nearly 5 weeks ago I attempted to step from my house down one step into the garage. Unfortunately, it was a terrible mis-step onto a cleat... and I quickly fell into a heap on the garage floor. While the kids watched. The pain was excruciating and immediately both boys were in tears watching me writhe around until I could get control of myself. I had a carload of groceries to bring into the house and Buddy was supposed to be at a birthday party in 30 minutes. And we all needed lunch. Oh, and G was out of town, not expected home for 7 more hours.
Within minutes, my foot was enormous. Through his tears of worry, Buddy was able to help me accomplish my tasks, including getting his brother down for a nap. But not without all sorts of drama like, "Are you going to die?" and "Great. Now we're going to have to go to daycare."
To make a long story short, I called G home and he came as quickly as possible, cancelling his meeting with clients and driving the 3.5 hours to get home to help. A friend (the birthday party hostess) took me to the doctor for x-rays which turned out fine. My foot was too swollen for a good view apparently, but the radiologist reviewed the x-rays the following week and called with "you're fine" results. The doctor told me that if I wasn't feeling better in two weeks to follow up with a podiatrist.
Well, during that two week period, I put my mind over matter and willed myself to feel better. I was in charge of our stake daddy/daughter barn activity so I spent several days shopping for supplies and food, getting the barn ready and moving heavy haybales. During that time I also canned pears, got all the necessities together for Buddy to start school, enjoyed the last days of summer, and packed for vacation.
Eventually I went to the podiatrist when I realized my foot was still horribly swollen and bruised and sore. He took x-rays which showed damage, but they were inconclusive because of the location and swelling. The next day we left for a trip to Utah, with plans to get an MRI when I returned. I hobbled all over Utah willing myself to heal. Some days were definitely better than others and I learned that some activities (swimming) put way too much resistance on my foot to be comfortable.
I finally had the MRI last week, then the following day I returned to Utah for another trip in which I helped my dearest Shaniqua unpack her new house. I actually felt pretty good the entire time. So good that I figured the MRI results would be totally clean.
Today I got the frustrating news that I have torn ligaments and at least six fractures. Can you believe that?! And now I'm on strict orders to stay off my foot which includes very little driving for the next four weeks. I tried to convince the doctor that the orders were totally impractical and don't fit into my lifestyle. Then he reminded me that I've got an 5-week injury that hasn't begun to heal because rest "didn't fit into my lifestyle." Then he strongly encouraged me to rent a "knee scooter" and gave me a postcard with a phone number to call. He said the knee scooter is awesome because you can get out of the house and stay "active" while avoiding the burden of crutches, which in his opinion are not good for you back and wrists.
I literally laughed hysterically at the idea. I mean actually laughed and laughed and laughed. Especially when I took a good look at the advertisement: