So, Saturday night around 11 I was getting ready for bed and walked into the kitchen for some reason I can’t recall now – making sure I’d set up the coffee maker maybe? I stepped into the darkened, but not totally dark, kitchen and almost immediately put my foot into a dog dish. It slid out from under me, and I fell hard.
The dog dish didn’t start out in the doorway, Sophie sometimes decides to go back to the dishes to see if she’d missed anything. She must have pushed it into my path since the last time I’d been in the kitchen. Dogs are very short-sighted that way; she didn’t pause to think that if I’d fallen and smacked my head and DIED, her own future would be even more bleak. My inability to give up on her is the only thing keeping her alive at this point. [And is a subject I’ll have to deal with soon, I think.]
But we were both very, very lucky; the damage was just a sprained ankle, which as of now is a puffy foot but far less painful. I can hobble around on it, though I am keeping it up and iced as much as possible.
After the other bruises started to bloom, I realized I’d come very close to a busted right wrist. (It’s fine.) Fast healing is my superpower. Not winning lottery tickets or finding a rich, liberal man, or even a better job. But damn, I do heal fast.
It made me remember the days after my brain hemorrhage/surgery. I was in the hospital a total of ten days, until I harangued my surgeon to let me go the hell home, where my daughter would be staying with me and I’d be able to sleep in my own bed.
All the other doctors grudgingly cleared me, and I was sent home, with a follow up from physical therapy and other shit. The PT guy showed up the following day, and came to the door with a walker. I answered the door with a laundry basket on my hip. I said, “Yeah, I don’t need that, but come on in.” He evaluated me, and I didn’t need follow up PT. Duh.
[Don’t get me wrong, I was taking many, many naps and had just summoned the energy to try to do something normal, like laundry, when he came to the door, but it was awesome timing. The look on that guy’s face. 🙂 ]
So I sprained my ankle, but it could have been much worse. Oddly enough, it actually changed my perspective and made me feel very grateful for how things have worked out. I sprained my left ankle, I did not break my right wrist. I work from home so I didn’t have to hobble into an office building on Monday. My foot is propped, I can function.
I do not recommend spraining an ankle as an exercise in gratitude, but I discovered I can use it as one.
It’s still a pain in the ass.
Advice from a woman with many sprains in her past (and probably many in her future!) Soak your foot and ankle in cold water several times a day, like the athletes do. It doesn’t have to be ice cold, just room temperature will feel plenty cold to your foot. Doing that several times a day for ten minutes or so will take the swelling down and help the pain fast.
Things like this always make me nervous about living alone as I get older. You’ve been through far worse, so you probably don’t worry too much! I’m glad you’re healing quickly.
I do think about that, but I’m more regretting my awesome second floor condo with the high ceilings, because stairs are literally a pain at the moment. The hardest part of this is hobbling up and down the stairs to take the dogs out. I’m very grateful they’re small and potty pad trained. Sunday (the morning after the sprain) there was no way I could navigate the stairs, but it was a very stormy day anyway, so we just stayed in. My foot is still puffy today, but I can very carefully navigate the stairs again.