Yesterday I was carrying a box downstairs and missed a step. I landed awkwardly on on the side of my foot and twisted my ankle around in a bad way. Then I fell down the stairs.
My first thought was "Oh, shit. We're having a baby, and I just broke my ankle." I let out a scream of frustration and pain. Chelsey came down to check on me. I was trying to not throw up. Then I threw the box at her on accident while I was trying to clear a path.
But I was able to put weight on it. And even though is swelled up like a grapefruit, I think it's just sprained. So I am now officially hobbled for the arrival of this baby.
But at least I didn't break my ankle. Right before I moved from Atlanta to New Orleans.
I got sick to my stomach reading this. My tolerance for ankle related stories is very very low.
ReplyDeleteSometimes I'll just be sitting there, and I will think of my ankle all twisted and mangled and it get woozy.
Keep it elevated, put ice on it, and wrap it tight. Eat prescription pain killers.
I did all of those yesterday. I am doing one of them today. That was my first experience with physical pain making me want to hurl. It is very visceral. So much so that I can still channel it.
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