So, I've broken my foot.
Dear Dutch X-Ray Techs: FYI, this is not a natural foot position. In my country, we administer Morphine before sending our patients to see your kind. It does not make me feel any better to have you tell me that you know it hurts. Morphine. Seriously.
And, this is what you get when you break that little bone known as your fifth metatarsal:
Seems like a bit of overkill until you accidently weight bear on that little tiny bone and feel like this:
In the two weeks preceeding this tragedy, I did many things that would have been well-deserving of some sort of injury. I trekked around the precarious landscape of Iceland (narrowly escaping a volcanic eruption, it seems), I paraglided in the Black Forest, I wore high heels on the cobblestones of Holland, I rode my motorcycle and I did Yoga. I came away unscathed until I did something really stupid....
I walked. On a sidewalk. In sport sandals. Tevas, no less.
You know when you just twist your ankle a little and your greatest injury is the one to your pride because someone may have witnessed your floundering recovery? I've actually done this exact move many times before but it's generally not associated with a crunching noise and a flash of lightning.
Of course, I did not go in to see a Doctor right away. I'm a medical professional and it seemed totally stable to me so, instead, I chose to go home in a taxi for a million euros and moan about it for the night, overdose on anti-inflammatories and ice it for five hours to see if my foot would sort itself out because fractures often do that..... heal overnight. Twelve hours later, after soliciting the opinions of everyone else in the house, I admitted that I likely needed to get it checked out... just to make sure there was nothing seriously wrong.
Denial is a powerful adversary. Even when the Doctor stated the obvious next step, the x-ray, I told her that I was certain that it wasn't broken and it likely wasn't necessary.
Doctor: "Can you take a few steps towards me?"
Me: "Do you need me to go somewhere or is this a test?"
Doctor: "It's a test."
Me: "Okay, an x-ray then."
But, believe it or not, all of this is not the worst part. The Crutches!
In the rational part of my brain (small part greatly removed from the words and actions part), I knew that I did not require total immobilization or a hospital admission for this injury but, really? The medical professionals chose to turn me loose after adding 10 kg to one leg, injecting me with heparin and giving me a pair of crutches to make my way in the world after I broke my foot while walking. Wow. Really?
The first couple of days, or week and a half, were really frustrating! Literally every move had to be meticulously planned out.
1. Crutch walk to stove. Park crutches at counter corner. Crutches do not park well and generally topple... takes practice.
2. Unscrew percolator, pivot and hop three hops to garbage to empty grounds from yesterday.
3. Three hops back to sink. Rinse.
4. Two hops to left (hold counter) and get coffee and nutmeg.
5. Remember to get coffee mug and spoon down while on that side of the kitchen.
6. Left rotation and stretch to place mug and spoon on the island.
7. Pivot back to coffee and nutmeg, pick up (in one hand if possible) and hop three times to right (hold counter).
8. Assemble coffee percolator, right turn and lean to place on stove top. Turn on burner.
9. While waiting for coffee to perc, three hops to the right to get milk from fridge.
10. Right demi-pirouette and lean forward to put milk in mug on the island. Reverse action to return milk to fridge.
11. Wait for coffee (not worth the effort to go and sit down).
12. Position body halfway between stove and island. Use right hand to pick up coffee pot, gently turn 180 degrees counter-clockwise and pour coffee into mug. This must be done smoothly as there is no hopping while holding liquids, especially really hot ones.
13. Return coffee pot to stove (make sure stove is turned off, lesson learned).
14. Get crutches and crutch walk to island, slightly passing the end the coffee mug is on.
15. Move both crutches in one hand and balance.
16. Slide coffee mug to the other end of the island (as close as possible to the dining table).
17. Crutch walk to the dining chair closest to the kitchen and park crutches in the corner between the cereal cabinet and the wall. They will likely fall once the cat comes around.
18. Sit in chair.
19. Rotate upper body in chair to reach behind to island and get the coffee mug.
20. Enjoy. That was the first fifteen minutes of your day.
I am so over that. I can now do that whole thing in no more than twelve minutes. Fortunately, I limit myself to one cup because the flushing of the excess fluids is almost as complex.
Here is what I have learned:
- Anything that I have forgotten upstairs, can stay there.
- I have a great bladder.
- My house needs to be cleaned.
- Small kitchens have their advantages.
- Two flights of stairs in one house is too much.
- Crutches slip on talc.
- Crutches slip on towels.
- Crutches slip on water.
- All sidewalks are uneven.
- For training purposes, I'm glad my Hubbybaby has broken his legs in the past.
- My cat fetches.
- Online tutorials can fill an entire day.
- Wine and Advil do mix. Ok... knew that one already.
- The sixteen-year-old boy can be really useful.
- Spiders freak me out way more when I know I can't run away.
- I have no patience.
- I micro-manage waaaay more when I can't do things.
I am two weeks into a four week sentence.