To Walk and Chew Gum

I've spent the last four days hobbling around town on crutches. Actually, it was more like hobbling around my apartment and my parents' house on crutches, wincing with pain everytime I moved and laughing at how ridiculous I must look, too embarrassed to head into town.

(I've never quite mastered the art of using crutches. Instead of swinging my legs out like any normal person would, I kind of just... hop. Or something. Regardless, it's amusing, and I know it.)

In all honesty, who - other than an idiot - trips over her own feet while walking across campus to a meeting? Nothing got in my way - I checked the sidewalk afterwards, and there was nothing there. I was walking across campus to a meeting I would have normally driven to - but it was a beautiful morning, and I wanted to look at the leaves. The next thing I knew, my entire left leg was on fire and I was shouting some very not-nice words in the middle of a Catholic college campus. I guess there was an uneven portion of sidewalk, and I, of course, stepped on it in just the right manner to roll my ankle, snap some tendons or ligaments or whatever, and thereby alleviate myself of the huge burdan of walking.

I actually thought it was broken. In high school, I had some big problems with my other ankle, and I remember the pain exactly. It was horrible. The pain on Friday morning was considerably worse, and I couldn't put any pressure on it whatsoever without letting loose a string of obscenities, so I just figured it must be a fracture. Security came to pick me up from the patch of sidewalk (someone saw me fall and called them since I couldn't walk - EMBARRASSING) and took me back to my office where they informed me that I'd be required to report the incident to Human Resources. AWESOME.

HR made me an appointment at emergency care, and every person I've ever met while living and working in Rensselaer was in the waiting room, checking out my two-grapefruit-sized ankle (seriously - it looked two very large pieces of fruit were inside my foot, one protruding from each side of my ankle) and asking millions of questions. After several xrays and lectures from my doctor, he decided it wasn't broken, but called it "the worst sprain" he'd seen "in years." I had to keep it wrapped, iced, and elevated all weekend, and crutches were mandatory. He gave me Darvocet, which didn't do a damn thing for me, and sent me on my way.

(Relatedly, if anyone's interested in some "recreational" drugs, give me a call.)

I spent the weekend at my parents' house where my mom lovingly waited on me hand and foot. She made me grilled cheese and tomato soup, washed my laundry, and let me control the remote (WITH TIVO). I promised to do the same for her when she gets old and breaks a hip. She's a great lady.

HR made me go back to the doctor yesterday morning, where they took more xrays after they saw the size of the swelling. Not quite two grapefruits anymore, it was still considerably bigger than it should have been. Maybe the size of a softball. Anyway, my doctor wasn't at all pleased with my recovery, but still didn't see a fracture. He said "something just popped out of place, and we've got to get it back in there." Wha? So now I'm in an aircast, limping like a feeble old lady.

Last weekend was the first weekend in over a month that I didn't have to work, and I was looking forward to going shopping for a friend's baby shower. I had to miss the shopping and the shower (it was in a building with lots of stairs and no elevator), but I did finish three books in four days, a new personal best for a geek like me. Also, my peg leg got me out of a work event tonight in Indy.

Oh - and yes, it's true: I was, indeed, chewing gum when I fell, making me the world's only real-life Blonde Joke. Keep the kiddies away.