Wednesday began much like any other day with one exception.
My husband was out of town.
In a universe that loves to screw with people, that was all it would take to set in motion a chain of comedic (and painful events).
My mornings typically begin like a lot of people's mornings. There is the usual routine of making sure my daughter is up, getting ready for school and making a lunch.
There is the driving of the morning leg of the carpool to the aforementioned school.
On this particular Wednesday, I have everything under control and am heading to the car.
Because we have a young male dog that wants to run all over the neighborhood "socializing", we have rigged up a sort of gate contraption at the top of our driveway. (Which is actually almost useless since our very agile Sheltie can just hop right over it at the low spot. But it does slow him down.)
If I had any sense, I would have opened that gate as I do most mornings.
But of course, I didn't.
Instead, I decided to step over it.
Which is not normally such a stupid thing to do. It's only two feet high.
But on this day, a day when my husband was 4 hours away, and my teenage son spent the night at a friends house, and the only family member in close proximity was a 12 year old girl who cannot drive, on THIS day, my first foot went over the gate just fine. But my SECOND foot got caught in the top of the mesh.
Sending me spiraling down in what the ER nurse would later characterize as a "cartoon fall".
The next 5 minutes are kind of a blur. There was a spilled can of soda (my morning non-coffee caffeine ritual), an explosion of articles out of my purse, and a fair amount of swearing.
And possibly some whimpering.
What do you think I did next?
Do you think I had my daughter run in the house to call the girls in the carpool and tell them they couldn't go to school today?
And did I then have her call a friend to drive me to the hospital?
Or maybe an ambulance even?
No. Of course not.
Because I am a fully indoctrinated, Scots/German raised "suck it up, walk it off, and get on with it" stoic.
So I did what any stoic with a rescue complex would do. I had my daughter throw all my stuff into the car (except the soda - I never did find out what happened to it), I gritted my teeth, drove over to pick up the girls, and drove the 9.8 miles (each way) to school. (Thank you google maps - I've been making that drive for 14 years and only just now found out how far it is.)
I knew I had done something significant to my left ankle - maybe a bad sprain - but I also knew all my friends were at work and the parents of the girls I was driving were already at work. I didn't even know how to get a hold of them because - in all the years that I have been driving those kids to school, I've never bothered to get the parents work phone numbers. (Which is pretty stupid.)
The girls were terrified because I literally huffed and puffed the whole way, grimacing and letting out audible gasps every time I had to use my bad leg to depress the clutch.
Oh, yeah - did I mention the only car I had available that day was a stickshift?
On the return journey, I called my son on his cell and told him to get ready, I was going to swing by and pick him up from his friend's so he could help me get out of the car and into the house.
I have to pause here to say - all that stuff about how hard it is to raise teenagers, all the conflict that gives parents migraines, that's all true. But my 17 year old son was a gem that day. Once we got home he waited on me hand and foot and only went to school when he was sure I would be OK without him.
Since I have health insurance that could charitably be described as "catastrophic coverage only", I did what all economically challenged stoics do. I took some Ibuprofen, climbed into my bed, elevated my leg, wrapped my ankle in a nice Ace bandage, put ice on it and settled in to let it get better.
I didn't cancel my students for that evening because A) I don't need to stand on my ankle to teach B) the students for the day were all coming to my house rather than the University C) I foolishly thought my ankle might be better by then and D) self employed people who don't work don't earn money.
I did call my husband and tell him what had happened and he, of course, dropped what he was doing and headed straight home so I knew I would be in much better shape once he got back.
With 4 - 5 hours to kill before John made it back to town, and before kids would come home from school, I discovered the flaw in my "I'll be OK here by myself" plan.
The dog needed to be let out to pee.
My ankle was so bad I could not put any weight on it at all so I tried hopping about on my good leg.
On one particular hop, I felt a small twinge in my good ankle.
Great. All I needed was to screw up the other ankle.
So I resorted to crawling around my house on my hands and knees.
During one such excursion, I had to figure out a way to carry the phone around with me. I had several playing engagements coming on the docket that now had to be farmed out to other harpists.
Since my phone doesn't have one of those clip on things, I had to resort to stashing it in my bra. (Note to my male readers - women are always doing stuff like this, they just don't tell you,)
Let me tell you, spending several hours crawling around your house gives you a whole new perspective. For one thing, you find out how truly filthy your floors are.
I spent all that day and the ensuing night wrestling with whether or not to go to the ER. With a deductible like ours ($7,000) you don't make such trips for things you can fix yourself. But my final student for the night pointed out that if there really was something seriously wrong and I didn't address it, I would probably limp for the rest of my life.
And I realized that I wasn't only being a stoic, I was being a stone cold idiot.
Bright and early Thursday morning my husband drove me to the ER.
The x-rays showed that I had not sprained my ankle.
Yay!
Not.
I had, in fact, broken my leg in two places.
To be precise, I had broken my fibula. The big break is down by the ankle. The second break is a tiny one up by the knee.
I don't yet know the full prognosis. I meet with the orthopedic surgeon on Monday to find out if there is any way I get out of this without surgery to put a plate in my ankle.
The kicker is that I have one of my busiest playing seasons in years with a musical and two concertos on which I am the featured soloist playing the Handel Concerto and the Debussy Danses.
All of which are now on hold.
But thank goodness I got some sense and got treatment. As I go through this process, I will be blogging a lot because I'll have nothing better to do
A couple of photos:
The offending gate
My thigh high splint and my new digs for the duration.
In an ironic twist of fate, this is today's Edison which is also Mike Peterson's Comic Strip of The Day. Please go read Mike's take on health care in America.
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