I need a better story for how I broke my foot.
Friends, co-workers, random people at the grocery store see my foot in a plastic orthopedic boot and ask “hurt your foot?”. I’m tempted to say ‘Nope, just like wearing ONE clunky boot’. I’ve also thought about telling each person a different story just to see which one became more popular in the gossip mill. Instead, I behave and answer with the short version: “Yeah, I tripped and broke it.”
The complete truth is…I was going to my car to get my cellphone I forgot earlier. I was barefoot (Hey, it’s summertime.) My two mini dachshunds followed me as usual. My quick errand took a bad turn, when spying kids on bikes, my pups started running into the road. Fearing my boys would get flattened, I called and ran after them. My yard is small and mostly flat, keyword is…mostly. My bare toes caught in a slight dip. Then they folded under my foot toward my heel. I glanced down for one second as it happened. It didn’t actually hurt yet. But the grotesque image was enough.
I didn’t fall over. I just kinda sank to the ground. I held my foot and tried not to through up. My limb looked ‘normal’. I wiggled my toes with success. (BTW the dogs ran safely into the neighbor’s yard.) I sat quiet for a few minutes as I calmed down. The pain set it. I grabbed my dogs – and my stupid phone – and limped inside.
I hoped it wasn’t broken knowing it probably was. An x-ray revealed I had a non-dislocated fractured fifth metatarsal or ‘I broke my foot’. I spent a week on crutches with an ace bandage – super hi-tech medicine – before my appointment with an orthopedic. He prescribed the ‘walking boot’. And it is a blessed invention. I walk like Quasimodo, but I can walk.
Since breaking my foot, I’ve had to adjust a lot in my daily routine. Little things you don’t think about, suddenly become huge obstacles. My husband has been great. He literally picked me up and put me in the car to go to the doctor. (I recommend a spouse that can lift you with ease.) He has been a sweetheart during the whole ordeal, even when he maroons me on the couch.
Since my mobility is limited, I have discovered some things I didn’t know about myself. Like:
I can stand on one leg during an entire shower.
I have an 80% trashcan shooting percentage.
I’d rather crawl than use crutches, but I use crutches because they are faster
I’d rather break my foot than have one of my puppies hit by a car (or even a bicycle).