Now, I wasn't always this way. Until I was 23, I was a wild child party queen, who probably got most of her calories from booze and late night pizza. Thinking back on my teenage years and early twenties, I can't believe that I didn't break anything before. I made it through most of my life relatively injury-free. How many times did I get drunk and stumble, only to wake up with a few bruises here and there, never once having to go to the hospital or see a doctor.
On September 24th, 2014, I made the super smart (not) decision to play kickball. Mind you, I haven't played sports in over 10 years, and my hand-eye coordination is… well it's questionable. I'm good at stretching and I'm good at walking, but running around a baseball diamond, not so much.
The game started out ok. I was on third-base and didn't really have to do much, so that was cool. When it was my turn to kick the ball, I felt pretty confident in my ability, and I made it to second base. When the next kicker( batter? kicker?) kicked the ball way into the outfield, I ran home. And then, as I was crossing home base, I tripped.
I broke my ankle in three places because I tripped over home-base. Yep. That's right, I didn't have some crazy accident, nobody accidentally took me out, I broke my ankle because I tripped.
It was strange because right after it happened, I didn't really feel any pain. I tried to get up but my ankle wouldn't hold my weight. My teammates lifted me up and carried me to the dug out.
"You must have sprained it.", one of them said.
"Yeah, if it was broken you'd be in A LOT of pain", another cheerfully told me.
"Great.", I thought to myself, "Who has time to deal with a sprained ankle". As the game continued without me (my team won ps, and my home run counted, so wooooohooo) , I googled "Sprained Ankle" , "Sprained Ankle Recovery Time", and groaned as I read about the 2-4 week recovery process.
Meanwhile, my ankle started to swell up. I looked up and decided it was time to call for help. I texted my boyfriend (who was on the other side of town), and told him that I needed to go to the hospital because I broke my ankle. He, being basically the best human being ever, came right away.
How cute is that. Definitely just sprained though, right?
Now, for the first thirty minutes or so, I was brave. I didn't cry. But not because it didn't hurt, because OH MAN did it hurt. When my boyfriend finally came and picked me up I broke down in tears. He tried to get me up, but even the slight movement of hopping on one foot sent pain shooting through my leg.
Eventually, one of my teammates carried me to the car. Now, I have this thing about being carried. I won't let my boyfriend carry me, because he's basically the same size and height as me (around 6'), and I have a great fear that if he carries me, we'll both fall and break everything.
SO INSTEAD, I asked one of my teammates to carry me to the car. He basically was eight feet tall and 300 pounds of solid muscle, so I figured he wouldn't drop me and he didn't.
After settling down in the car, I called my insurance ( THANKGOD I JUST GOT MY MEDICAL ) and asked them where I could go. My main hospital Urgent Care was closed, and at this point I thought my foot was sprained and not broken, so I didn't want to go to their Emergency Room. My insurance provider directed me to a different Urgent Care, that happened to be open at 3PM on a Sunday, and off we went.
It was the worst car ride of my life. I could feel every bump, every turn and it hurt like hell. At some points I thought I was going to pass out. I was experiencing some serious D-E-N-I-A-L, and kept saying things like: " WOW, I didn't realize sprained ankles could hurt this much". Finally we arrived at the hospital,
To be continued.
This is a great post! Oy! You bring me back.
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