Day: Two Hundred and Ninety Five
As we are getting ready to host our Survive the Rapture Luncheon on Saturday, I cross the living room and find the only walking hazard then proceed to trip over it. It is the video game holder and my third metatarsal catches the cover without me noticing (yeah, my feet are that big). As I take a step down the cover opens up, keeps the toe securely in its grasp, and when the foot lands that's when the pain shoots up my entire leg.
A slew of F-bombs pierce the quietness of the Reab Household. Steve appears in the doorway. "What'd you do?"
Rather than admit I still do not know the length of my own feet, I blame him for leaving the games out. He takes no offense to this, being that this is not the first time I have stubbed my toe in his presence and every time I usually blame him for rearranging the furniture when I leave the room. "That couch was definitely three centimeters to the right when I went to go get the iced tea from the fridge!"
As the day wears on, the bruise gets darker and the swelling bigger. Today I ask my buddy, Dr. Mwando, if it's broken. He gets down to foot level and squeezes the toe. "Ow."
"Nope. Not broken. But come down to Recovery later and we'll throw you in the C Arm."
Yay! The C Arm!
One of the residents did this for me two years ago, right when Das Boot came off and I was clear for running but a day later-no joke-I decided to vacuum my apartment then stubbed my pinkie toe on said vacuum after I was too lazy to put it back in the closet. I successfully broke that little guy (the toe not the vacuum even though throwing it through the window did occur to me) and had to push back the running debut for another two weeks until I could wear my sneaks again.
So I go on down to Recovery once all the patients leave and we awkwardly stick my foot in the C Arm and take the picture. Drs. Zong and Mwando, Peggy, and Kise look at the x-ray and all come to the conclusion that it is not broken (phew!) and I should just not run for awhile (I'll probably run later). Feeling left out, Kise then sticks his ankle in the machine because it's been clicking lately so I get to press the big orange button to take the picture and then I get to join the doctors and the tech as we decide what to do about Kise's ankle-clicking problem which is nothing. Just don't walk on it, Kise, then it won't click.
Problems solved!
3 comments:
What you need to also do...is pick your mail up off the floor. I'm trying to prevent future mishaps.
It's ok, I'm ridiculously clumsy too. We make a great pair. I'm glad it wasn't broken though.
what is with my kids that they can;t put things away--i am so very very anal retentive about my home--the only one it rubbed off on was kim and her house looks like the model--i need to throw a reader's digest on the counter at least--bottom line at least this time you didn't break anythibg
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