Letter to my children: (and my blogger buddies, of course)
Dear Tif and Jon,
I don't understand it! There weren't any tree roots which is what usually makes me fall. I wasn't outdoors. What the heck!
Last night I was putting books back on the top shelf of the bookcase where Dad had secured our new TV in case of an earthquake. I was standing on a chair. (Dad said I should mention the fact that there was a step stool I could have used right behind me.) I don't know what happened next exactly but as I was coming down I fell and twisted my right foot. Like I said, no tree roots, no rocks but somehow I managed to fall anyway.
Almost immediately, a big lump began to form on top of my foot. Dad iced it but I couldn't put any pressure on it without excruciating pain so we decided to go to the Tripler Emergency Room. Remember when Dad had to go there a couple of years ago and we went in there at 4:00 PM and came out at 3:00 AM?
"Don't worry," I told Dad, "I'll be fine. They'll probably tell me I just stressed it and send me home. It doesn't even hurt anymore."
We arrived at Tripler Army Hospital at 6:50 and checked in. Dad brought books for both of us to read and we figured we'd be in the waiting room all night since there were no parking spaces when we arrived.
At 8:00, X-rays were taken by a corpsman that Dad and I both agreed reminded us of Cuba Gooding Jr. He kept up a hilarious running banter the entire time. He also nearly made me scream (not with laughter) when he manipulated my foot to get a better angle. I asked for the lead protective apron since I've had thyroid cancer. "You've had cancer? Well...isn't radiation supposed to cure cancer?" he asked with a smile. "You're not pregnant are you?" I really liked this guy.
At around 8:45 I was in the examining room where the doctor said he had good news and bad news. The bad news was that the 5th metatarsal bone was fractured. The good news was that it was not displaced.
My foot is broken? How can that be? I've never broken a bone before. That's Jon's department. What about the 3 extra weeks of line dancing I just signed up for this month? I'm supposed to register for the next 10 week session of line dancing starting in mid June. Arrrrghhhhh!
Because I've got osteopenia, healing may be a bit slower; more like 8+ weeks rather than 6, the doctor added.
A splint was moulded onto my foot, I was given Vicodin for pain, given lessons on how to use crutches (NOT easy) and out the door by 10:00 PM! Incredible!
Did I mention that your grandmother is totally freaking out? She's acting like I've somehow been hit by a bus, contracted deadly swine flu and needing to be bed ridden for the rest of my life. Sheesh!
I'm not allowed to put any weight on my foot and I'm discovering how difficult it is to manage what I've taken for granted. I now have an even greater respect for people who are handicapped. You don't realize just how lucky you are until you can't do something.
I have to keep my foot iced and elevated until tomorrow. I think I'll go to sleep now. The Vicodin is making me very groggy. I refuse to take it anymore.
I'll be better by Monday. I have to go sign up for that line dancing class.
Well, kids and all my blogging buddies...
I love you all.
Be very careful where you step.