So I broke my foot.
Technically, I broke the right distal fibula down near my ankle. But with a big heavy stabilizing boot on my foot, you can’t really see anything. When the boot’s off, you can see the swelling and the bruising. It’s quite fetching. In a science-fiction kind of way. Especially if you like yellow and purple. If you want to read more about the story of what happened, please feel free to visit my family blog at Three Peas in a Pod.
This is my first broken bone. Not too bad for someone who’s 35 years old and has been accident-prone all of those 35 years. I come by it naturally. My father is the King of Random Accidents. His CB handle (yes, we had a CB radio in our car; we were that kind of family in the 70s and 80s…and actually, Dad still is) was Tanglefoot. He’s been more likely to get injured from his trips and falls than I have, though. That is, until now.
I don’t know how long I’m going to be off my feet, but it’s likely going to be awhile. The orthopedist said that I need to stay off my foot until I can put my foot down for balance without feeling pain. Then we’ll see how things go for awhile before he gives me clearance to start putting weight on the foot. I may have to have a follow-up X-ray at my follow-up appointment on July 1, so the doc can see how things are coming along. That’s two weeks from now, but it feels like forever. I was chafing at being housebound in the two weeks after my c-section back in the winter, but at least then I could walk around my house. Now, I can’t even do that. I can crutch around, but ugh. Walking on crutches isn’t nearly as easy as it looks. And being a bit naturally, er, clumsy doesn’t help me with that, either. It’s also exhausting!
I’ve got my laptop here with me, and my iPhone, too. Thank God for modern technology so I can keep up with everyone. I’d go nuts if I had to just sit here in front of the television. I’m one of those addicted-to-my-gadgets people that you’re starting to see derisive articles about. There are people out there who claim that the Internet is ruining our relationships with our kids, keeping us from developing healthy friendships, interrupting family meals, blah blah y blah. And maybe that is true for some people; it probably is. But it’s keeping me sane while I can’t move around. While I’m stuck here in my house, limited to hobbling back and forth to the bathroom or whatever on my crutches. While I have to wheedle and plead with my family members to please just bring me another Diet Coke already.
And you know what they say. If Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.