Here I was about to write a post telling you all that I need a few days off from blogging as my job has kicked into high gear (again), but I fell down the stairs and sustained a nasty foot injury and now blogging is about the only thing I can still manage. Doncha love some irony?
How did this happen? Well, I was 3 stairs up, on my way to bed (after a very, very long day), when I decided I needed to return something to the main floor. The problem is, in my fatigue, I forgot I was 3 stairs up. I thought I was 1 stair up, so I simply walked off the third stair as if it were the first. Weird how bad that can be for one's landing. I fell on my left foot/ankle, the one I led with. The rest of my body fell on top of it. I can't figure out how I didn't damage anything else - not wrists or arms or knees or head. How did I land without trying to brace my fall???
My husband, who's persona non grata right now (not to wade too far into a marital strife moment), told me I was overdramatizing. I did scream and writhe in pain and then had to crawl up the stairs. Apparently, he's sprained his ankle numerous times and (according to him) one is supposed to do the same thing (ice), regardless of the style of injury, and that thing doesn't include whimpering or going to the emergency room. (Note to reader: He's never sprained his ankle in the 15 years I've known him.)
This morning, when I went to the emergency room (thanks to the utter graciousness of my manager, of all people, who came to fetch me from home and made sure I had reading material and snacks), the triage nurse told me to advise my husband that if he had a foot injury like mine and he didn't get himself to the hospital, he's an idiot.
Note: I don't own a car and I have no family I can call on in an acute emergency. All of my friends with wheels had to work today.
The doctor suspected it was broken, but thankfully it's just a really bad soft tissue injury. It may take 4 days or a week to heal well enough to put weight on my foot, or maybe longer. Timing is unique to each individual.
The first thing I thought after the searing pain subsided somewhat was: "Jesus, I really want to do some yoga right now. Serves me right for all of my laziness and taking it for granted." The second thing was: "I guess I won't be doing any sewing this weekend". Strangely, the questions of how hard it would be to eat or pee or move 2 feet didn't really occur to me.
I had a choice of cast or crutches with tensor bandage. I took the latter. It's easier to lie with your legs up the wall when you're not carrying around a casing.
I did mainline some arnica (200C) as soon as it happened and put some arnica cream on the swelling. I took extra vitamin D. I didn't take any painkillers till 2 hours ago because I didn't have Tylenol and I've heard that Advil and fractures don't mix. In the event that I had a break, I didn't want to impinge on healing at the get go. I elevated it numerous times throughout the night and used ice on and off. I was doing yoga mentally, if only minutely, in my constant wiggling of my toes (to maintain mobility) and the minuscule extension of my inner foot (which was contracting from injury).
It's pretty scary what can happen in a moment of inattention. I'm trying to focus on the positive: that my injury is fairly compact, I could have injured myself so seriously, and I have lots of knowledge about how to encourage healing. I do find it tough not to fall back on fear (How will I walk? Walking keeps me sane. Walking is my exercise. Walking is perhaps the most important thing I do.)
As my identity is wrapped up in all of my activities (sewing, yoga, walking), who will I be as I go through recovery? How will I manage the boredom, never mind relying on others?
I know lots of blogger-peeps have had foot injuries this year, strangely. Maybe you've had a nasty injury in the past? Tell me about your process of recovery, about your feelings. I'd really love your perspective.