Anyone that knows me IRL, knows that I’m not what you’d consider graceful. I’ve never taken a dance class, ice skated, done gymnastics or anything else that requires balance and coordination. Walking without falling typically requires most of my brain cells, which is why you’ll rarely see me chewing gum and walking simulaneously (hahaha, just joking….well, maybe not). This lack of grace started quite early on for me. I think I was around 3-4-5 years old when I tripped going into our living room (there was a 1″ step up into the living room) and caught myself by putting my hand on our wood stove – that resulted in a burnt palm/fingers. And that was just the beginning…there was falling/rolling off of our deck, falling in the middle of winter on the bottom step and cracking my back across the stairs, broken fibula in high school that required surgical intervention to stabilize the break with a metal plate and 3 screws, at least one fall on our frost covered deck of the last house, the hilarious but humiliation fall while running up the stairs at MSU when I was wearing a leather trenchcoat (hands deep in my pockets with my discman turning out some Alanis) and fell in such a way that I was like a turtle on it’s back – I couldn’t get my hands out of my pockets because I was laying on them on the flight of stairs…oh the list could go on for a very long time. Sooooo, you may not be surprised by the photos you see below…
Yes, that’s right, my friends. I broke my stinking (hahaha) foot. Friday morning, the kids and I had plans to go with the neighbor and her kids to the beach for the day. After a week of rain, this 80+ degree morning was going to be a rockin’ day. I’d spent the entire rainy week cleaning the house from top to botton and I could go to the beach and spend the entire day, GUILT FREE. So the kids were outside playing while I packed up my rig with our beach gear. I had one lone bag left in the house and we’d be off for a day of sun, sand and water. I was feeling pretty good, had a little bounce to my step (that should’ve tipped me off right away that something was going to happen). I bounded up the stairs a little bit quicker than I normally would have and on the 2nd to last step, I think the tip of my right shoe caught the edge of the stair and since I was travelling at warp speed (which would equal fast turtle to most of you normal folks), when I bought my left foot up and caught myself, my foot slipped off of my sandal and I felt/heard this loud POP! Followed closely behind that was the foot numbness and then the blinding pain. I walked from the doorway over to the couch and sat down. I took my sandal off and did the pain dance. Oh you know the one – where if you hurt your finger, you squeeze it tight as you rock back and forth as you hope that you cut the circulation off to your finger as to diminish the pain? Yeah, that one. I was trying to do that with my foot. Once my fogginess cleared, I took a peek at my foot expecting to see bruising, swelling, ugliness in general. Uh, nothing. Hmph. Must be ok then. I put my foot on the floor and saw stars…guess maybe it wasn’t going to be alright. So now what? Ok, I need to call Joe. For some unknown reason (or maybe it was the extremely painful foot), I thought my cell phone was in the car in my cup holder. So I had Nate open the door of the Explorer (I’m yelling directions to the kids from a kitchen chair I’d managed to crawl over to by the door) and had Lexi get in and look for my phone. My heart sank when I heard her say “it’s not there Momma”. Crap. OH! I had a small brain fart…it was in my back pocket.
When I arrive in hell, this will be my mode of transportation.
I guess I should explain a little bit more. When they gave me the ortho boot, they said that if the pain was tolerable, I could just walk out of there. I gave them that WTH look. Dude, my foot is BROKEN. But they said a lot of times, the ortho boot distributes your weight more evenly on the foot and many people don’t need crutches. Uh, not me. I put weight on my foot and thought I was going down for a second time that day. So, I got the crutches. And to quote a dear friend, “Crutches are not made for fat people.” And I just had to reiterate that. They are NOT made for fat people, especially ones with arthritis. Using the crutches to get from the hospital to the car and then into the house has left me with armpits and shoulders like jelly. I wonder if I could get a massage of my armpits? Hmmm, I’ll have to ask my friend, Candy, she’s a massage therapist.
Anyway, it became apparent quite quickly that the crutches were NOT going to work well for me. As we were pulling into the driveway, Joe says “what about a walker? Do you think that would help you get around?” I told him I wasn’t sure but I’d be willing to try. As soon as we pulled into the driveway, the neighbor that sat with me earlier that day came over to see what the verdict was. After I told her, I mentioned the walker thing and she said that her MIL had a walker in their basement and I could use it.
So if it weren’t bad enough that I broke my foot, I’m hobbling around like a 90 year old with a walker. But hey, it made it MUCH easier for me.
So, here’s my walker. 
And the result of a fracture of the 5th metatarsal is the gorgeous grey ortho boot.
Me and Natey kicking back and relaxing.
So I have to keep it elevated for another day or so and put an ice pack on it every 2-3 hours for 30 minutes at a time. I have an appt on Tuesday with an orthopedic surgeon to make sure that nothing further is required (like surgery). The ER doc said it was a nice, clean break but he’s not an orthopedist and wanted it looked at again.
I’m grateful that it really doesn’t hurt much. After the inital couple of hours, as long as I wasn’t putting any pressure on it, it was as if it weren’t broken. But then I’d flex my toes and it would shoot pain towards my toes and up towards my ankle simultaneously. Then I’d remember, oh yeah, my foot’s broken and there’s a reason I’m wearing this extremely hot boot. I also figured out a way to walk today. As long as I keep all my weight on the heel of my foot and keep my foot at a 90 degree angle, it doesn’t hurt much. I just have to go slow, which isn’t all that far from typical.
So that was our excitement for yesterday. The doc said that I should be in the boot for about 6 weeks. And I’m hopeful that it’ll be a MAX of 5 weeks. We’ll see what the ortho says on Tuesday.
