Wednesday afternoon I fell down the one step we have in our house. I tripped over air and hit the ground hard. And of course where I landed is the one spot that is cement covered by a thin layer of carpet.
I screamed as I hit the ground in an amazing amount of pain. With 2crazylittleboys, I try very hard to not make noise when I get hurt as I don’t want to scare them. Wednesday there was no controlling the screams. They both came running and my phone started ringing. (amazingly I didn’t drop it when I fell.)
My mom was on the phone. To the boys I said I was fine. To my mom I said I was hurt. I tried to move and every movement cause pain to shoot through my body. I reassured my mom that my foot wasn’t broken. The boys ran to get stuff to help. The oldest came back with a cut off leg from a pair of panty hose. The youngest had a soaking wet kitchen towel. My mom offered to come and hide my house slippers if I had been wearing them (I wasn’t).
As you can imagine, none of their ideas helped. I got off the phone, asked the boys to put the wet towel in the sink and tried to figure out how to get off the floor. I considered just lying there for the next hour until my husband got home. I eventually got myself standing and hobbled the six feet to the nearest chair. Once sitting I was able to look at my foot. I already had a lump and it was turning black and blue.
Now the boys were in full help mom mode. They got me pillows to prop my foot up. They made me an ice pack and wrapped it in a towel. They really wanted me to put the piece of panty hose on it. They finished picking up their toys while I sat in the chair planning out my next move.
I had to use the bathroom. It might as well have been a mile away than just through the living room and around the corner. I cried on my walk there and back. I spent the rest of the evening sitting around, using ice and trying not to holler every time my foot got bumped. Eventually I climbed into bed and tried to sleep. It wasn’t easy but I did manage to get some sleep.
Yesterday when I woke up, I didn’t move right away and felt okay. I thought maybe my foot was getting better. It looked terrible. The lump had spread to the whole foot being swollen and it was all a lovely blue color. My positive outlook lasted until I set my foot on the floor and tried to stand up. Wow. The pain was back and even worse.
I lasted through the morning do very little but icing my foot and resting. The boys were amazingly helpful. They got their own drinks and snacks. They played nicely together. They read books together.
By lunch I decided that my foot was probably broken. It was starting to hurt all the time whether I was putting pressure on it or not. I knew if I went over to the ER (which is just a block away) they would just refer me to another doctor so I decided to skip that part. I set up the appointment for that afternoon and then started making calls to find someone to keep the boys.
I found a friend who was willing to come to the house and watch the boys, but that led me to my next problem. How was I going to get to the doctor? I hobbled out to the garage to see if I could back the truck down the driveway. Success! Driving was much easier than walking.
I made it to the doctor’s office where I filled out a ridiculous amount of paperwork, was weighed (stupid lying machine), and had my blood pressure taken. I wanted to laugh when the nurse told me my blood pressure was good because it was actually high for me (but normal for a regular person). Doctors make me nervous and I was in pain. She probably thought my pulse was good, too, even though my heart was racing.
Finally I had three X-rays taken and the doctor came in. She asked some questions and then started messing with my foot. I believe she wanted to play the game “how hard can I press the spot that hurts before I get kicked in the face.” Once she completed the game (no, I didn’t kick her.), she started looking at the X-rays on her computer. She’d make them bigger and then smaller and then bigger again.
Finally she told me my foot was definitely broken, but she needed to go look at the actual X-rays to double-check where the break was. Apparently I broke the worst bone to break in your foot. She told me that depending on where the break was it could disrupt blood flow to my toes and I could need surgery.
I’m not sure I can describe how hard I prayed while the doctor was off looking at the X-rays.
After what felt like forever, she came back and told me the break was okay and I wouldn’t need surgery. (Thank you, Lord!) I then got fitted for an air cast and a pair of crutches. The cast can come off only when I shower. If someone has any ideas on how I can stand long enough to wash my very long hair in the shower or how I can get out of the tub if I take a bath I’m looking for suggestions.
The drive home was ridiculous. With a couple extra inches added to my right foot, it was very hard to press on the gas. I did make it safely home but irritated the drivers behind me as I traveled much slower than they wanted to.
Once home, the boys thought the crutches were the coolest thing they’d ever seen. I made it through the evening mostly sitting and trying to figure out the most comfortable way to have an air cast on. For the record, there is no comfortable way. My foot ached. My toes had started to hurt. And then my very loving husband said, “wait until it starts itching.” which it immediately did. I may have threatened to hit him with my crutches.
Finally I got in bed. With my foot held firmly in an awkward position, I wasn’t sure I’d ever fall asleep. I posted on my personal Facebook page that my friends should put on one winter boot, add a ten pound weight to it, toss a couple of tacks in the bottom and then they might understand how I was feeling.
I did manage to get some sleep. Not enough and not good but some sleep nonetheless. And that leads us to today.
I’ve made it through day one of my four to six weeks of healing. I’ve had to use the crutches a lot today just being in the house. The pain has been intense today. We are trapped in the house because it’s chilly outside, and even if I could drive, where would we go that would require little to no walking? All of that equals 2grouchylittleboys. (To their credit the grouchyness has come in short bursts and they are trying to be helpful.)
I’m sure it will get easier. I’m sure there will be good days and bad. Eventually, I will be able to move around better, and we will be able to leave the house. How amazing is God that when bones break with time they will fuse back together? How amazing is God that if my break was one centimeter either direction I would have needed surgery?