fucking ankle, I hate youYesterday morning the thought, "Gee. I haven't fallen in a long time." Briefly crossed my mind, and the second I realized I was thinking it, I knocked on wood.
Because I'm superstitious like that.
Then, I thought, "Fuck. Now I'm going to fall."
Last night as I was running to answer the phone, the rug slipped out from under me, and I fell with a huge thud on the hardwood floors. My immediate instinct, as it always is, was to get up like nothing happened. After the initial jolt of adrenaline, I realized my ankle hurt really badly, and my knee was skinned up from my jeans. (Who knew you could get a skinned up knee inside? Not me, and Iíve fallen MANY times.)
I sat down at my desk, and figured that I just twisted my ankle a bit, and it would be fine. Within 10 minutes, it was swelling and had turned a lovely shade of purple. I panicked a bit, and I R.I.C.Eíd it.
I was scheduled to work today, so I went to bed early in hopes that Iíd wake up to a slightly swollen, yet not too painful, ankle.
No such luck. I hardly slept at all last night. I donít think Iíve been in this much pain since I ruptured my ACLs. It hurt so bad that I couldnít get comfortable, and the slightest weight, even from just the sheets, made it hurt worse. When I had to get up to go to the bathroom, a whole 15 feet away, I was in tears and my teeth were chattering it hurt so badly.
I called into work this morning, the first time Iíve ever called in, and was treated like shit. She was so mad, and not the least bit sympathetic. I mean, the least she couldíve said was, ďI hope you feel betterĒ or something. Itís not like I was calling in because I had a headache from drinking too much the night before. My ankle is literally twice the size itís supposed to be.
So, now Iím worried that itís a serious sprain, or possibly a broken bone (though Iíve never had a broken bone, so I wouldnít know what that feels like). I can move my toes very little, but it hurts like hell. I canít walk unless Iím supporting my self against the wall, or a piece of furniture.
Iím really scared. I donít have insurance, and I canít pay for an emergency room visit; thatís why I filed bankruptcy in the first place. Iím going to keep resting it, and see what happens. Cross your fingers.
Something did make me smile this morning. I checked the caller ID on my phone, and apparently I missed a pretty important call:
Who knew he lived in the Bronx?