Finally caught one. Image courtesy https://cottonbureau.com

Okay, granted…It wasn’t the kind of break I’d been hoping for, but …

Ok, so I broke my damned ankle last Thursday night. I know the first thing that is probably crossing your mind is, “OMG! Jules, how did you do that??!!”

What I want to tell people is that I did it badly landing a jump at the ice rink, or that I did it during a Warrior Dash.

What I actually tell people is that I fell off one of my platform stripper shoes during pole dancing class (pretty lie). Then I tell them the ugly (read: stupid) truth. I fell over one of my papillons. Hard. Went down like a ton of frigging bricks. HEARD that sucker break. I howled, the Hubs came running. I cried. A lot. OMG, y’all, it hurt so BAD! I couldn’t put any weight on it, so he got me to the recliner, propped it on a pillow and put a bag of frozen peas on it. I could still feel my toes, and he said that was a good sign, even though I insisted I heard it. About an hour or so later I texted the girls at work and told them I had taken a tumble (not that it surprised anyone, as gravitationally challenged as I am), and that I might be late for work Friday. Then I went to bed.

The next morning found me unable to bear ANY weight on my left foot at all, so I hopped to the bathroom, did my thing, hopped out and the Hubs helped me get dressed. I texted the girls to tell them I was heading straight to the urgent care clinic. (Because a $50 co-pay is so much better than a $300 co-pay at the ER, right?)

I found I couldn’t get down the brick steps from the porch to the sidewalk, and it was starting to rain, but I didn’t care; I went down on my butt, pulled myself up, and hopped to the truck.

We had a ridiculously short wait to see the doctor, who was simply AMAZING (and will have a banging’ thank-you card in the mail ASAP). He asked what happened, and I told him about the dogs, and he took my slipper and sock off to examine my ankle, and OMG! My TOES! I was mortified, to say the least. I have this terrific shade of turquoise:

This looks so cool when fresh…

It was much like the image above…I’d last done a pedi in August, and then kind of “refreshed” it about six weeks ago, but ignored those toes since then, because it’s gotten kind of cold-ish and I pretty much ignore my toenail polish from September to March. Well, damn. If my toes didn’t already look gross, that half-rubbed off polish sure did.

At any rate, off to x-ray we went. The verdict? Yeah. It was broken…my fibula. I even have a picture:

At least it was a fairly clean break.

The doc told me it didn’t look like it was going to need a pin (read: surgery), which was good, but probably would need to be cast. He wouldn’t do it there. He said that the area would be swollen the most by the third day or so, and that casting it before that point would be a bad thing; would cut the circulation off in my foot and toes, toes would turn blue, then turn black, then fall off, and that nobody is happy when their toes fall off. I know he was kidding, but you can cool believe I was watching my toes like a hawk, all the while hoping that a purple cast wouldn’t cause my toes to fall off.

I got a half-cast, which basically consisted of a hardened fiberglass “U” shaped splint under my foot and up each side of my calf to about knee sock height, wrapped in cotton and then a couple ace bandages. They gave me some nice, light-weigh aluminum crutches, got me a follow up to our orthopedic office, wrote me a ‘script for some nice pain meds (which I am still taking, so bear with me…) and sent us on our way.

This weekend I watched TV. A lot of TV. I had several episodes of Grey’s Anatomy, Chicago Fire, How to Get Away With Murder and some of my other favorites waiting for me and I burned through those like nobody’s business. By Saturday I needed my Netflix, which I stream through the Wii. Streaming was hit or miss, Saturday, but I updated the software, and I was able to watch a couple of Dexter episodes rounding out the 6th season, and got all of about 15 minutes into the 7th season when the stream started blowing up.

By Sunday, the stream was completely horked, so the Hubs wired my laptop and speakers to the TV and I watched several hours of Dexter and the remake of “Carrie” before I got tired and hobbled off to bed to try and get some sleep, which I actually did.

Damn, that looks like it hurts…

The thing that ticks me off about this whole thing? I’m a control freak, and my inability to get up and get something as simple as a cup of coffee or a glass of water pissed me the hell off. Plus, sleep was elusive. I’d move in the middle of the night and the comforter would hold my foot down and I’d holler. One of the dogs would move and I’d holler. I’d wake up because I’d had entirely too much water before bed, and I’d have to CAREFULLY find my way to the bathroom. The Hubs wasn’t sleeping, either, because, apparently, I was a hollering fool more than what even I was aware of. I have also learned that my pain meds dry me out, so I am guzzling water like nobody’s business.

What I did learn, during this time, was while I had initially grumbled about why this couldn’t have happened when I was overweight and inactive so I wouldn’t MISS exercising and lifting as much as I am, is that I am stronger and more fit than I gave myself credit for. The lifting? It gave me upper body strength that allowed me to use my crutches without relying on those “padded” armpit rests. I have also been doing modified pistol squats to sit and get up from the toilet…I have dubbed these “commode squats.” Yoga has been a godsend in that I can stand on one foot like a boss and not fall over, which comes in handy when one is putting on makeup or drying one’s hair. I have also learned that while my fibula might be broken? My sense of humor is still in one healthy piece. On Friday we had to phone in our auto insurance payment, and a good friend of mine is our agent. I’d told her earlier that morning, while I was in the waiting room, that I’d fallen and messed up my ankle. So the Hubs calls and puts her on speaker phone, at which point she refers to me as the International House of Pancakes…you know…IHOP. Bwahahahahaah! No, she didn’t…Yeah, she did! LOL…

I somehow managed to get the old green polish off of my nails and got my right foot polished in the color shown in the image above, and the Hubs was kind enough to do my left foot for me last night so it wouldn’t look terrible at the doctor’s office. He didn’t do too badly for his first ever attempt, no? What a guy! ❤

My follow-up at the ortho office was this morning. I was really worried; I kept thinking if I had to be pinned that it would put me out of work longer than I am comfortable with. I also worried that if I was going to have to get a cast, how the hell was I gonna be able to scratch? I had been lucky that most of where my leg would itch was within finger’s reach, and not under where the fiberglass was.

Absolute BEST case scenario!

I got really lucky! I didn’t need a (purple) cast. Instead, I was given an ace bandage and an “Aircast” walking boot, and was released to go back to work on Thursday, which actually makes me happy, because what fun is taking a bunch of PTO when you can’t really accomplish anything, right?

I’ve been practicing walking around the house until such time as I couldn’t, well, because pain…and finally got myself in here to sit in front of the computer to blog this. It’s the first time since Thursday, that I’ve felt anywhere near wanting to be in front of a screen if it wasn’t streaming Dexter or The Godfather, which I actually watched last night for the first time…ever! (I know…what kind of Sicilian am I, having never watched a movie that’s been out since ’72, right?) It was good, but I am not kicking myself for waiting forty-some years to catch it, although Pacino was really cute back then, and I am curious to see what happens with Michael & the Family in the next one (or two or however many after there are)!

So…I’ve held you captive long enough…

Until next time…