"That's not a broken bone. That's a lump the size of a golf ball. That is a tumor. That is cancer. You got cancer from slipping on ice. Ice is a carcinogen. Therefore water is a carcinogen. My God. Must alert the EPA. We are all in HORRIBLE DANGER!"
This train of thought makes much more sense if you're in pain.
When you're seriously injured, your body's innate response is swelling. I don't understand it, but that's how it works. In my case, after getting my sock and shoe off (ow, ow, ow), the swelling was...unnerving. "Oh, wow! That's...a very large bump! I hope it doesn't gain sentience and attack me! Ha ha! Please take me to the doctor."
I calmed down after a few minutes. We arrived at the clinic and X-rays were taken. As always, the break was almost invisible. ("See that line right there?" "...No." "...Well, it's there.") This time, it was my fibula, one of the two bones in your lower leg. Also the thinner one. A prime target for snappage. It would heal fairly quickly. I was issued a new walking cast, with non-slip treads (ha ha) and a little more space to accommodate my swelling. My old crutches would get me through the first few days. And that was that.
We returned home. My chocolate Lab, Bear, rushed up to greet me in the conventional way (HI! I'M BEAR! *thud*), but slowed down when he got close enough to see me. Throughout the rest of the day, he would sit next to me and occasionally examine my foot.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully. I kept the foot elevated, watched reruns of court shows, and sent the picture of my swollen foot to a few friends. I began relearning the crutches, spent inordinate amounts of time trying to get up the stairs, and rejoiced in the news of an impending blizzard that would close school the next day.
It's 11:30, the day after the fracture. The news channels proclaim doomsday. Eight feet of snow. Hurricane-force winds. Rain of blood and a plague of locusts. Schools are closed and business has ceased, for "safety reasons." A bit late if you ask me. Not that I am bitter.
Ah, well. Nothing to do but turn on Judge Mathis and eat peanut butter cookies.
Maybe this isn't so bad after all.
I calmed down after a few minutes. We arrived at the clinic and X-rays were taken. As always, the break was almost invisible. ("See that line right there?" "...No." "...Well, it's there.") This time, it was my fibula, one of the two bones in your lower leg. Also the thinner one. A prime target for snappage. It would heal fairly quickly. I was issued a new walking cast, with non-slip treads (ha ha) and a little more space to accommodate my swelling. My old crutches would get me through the first few days. And that was that.
We returned home. My chocolate Lab, Bear, rushed up to greet me in the conventional way (HI! I'M BEAR! *thud*), but slowed down when he got close enough to see me. Throughout the rest of the day, he would sit next to me and occasionally examine my foot.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully. I kept the foot elevated, watched reruns of court shows, and sent the picture of my swollen foot to a few friends. I began relearning the crutches, spent inordinate amounts of time trying to get up the stairs, and rejoiced in the news of an impending blizzard that would close school the next day.
It's 11:30, the day after the fracture. The news channels proclaim doomsday. Eight feet of snow. Hurricane-force winds. Rain of blood and a plague of locusts. Schools are closed and business has ceased, for "safety reasons." A bit late if you ask me. Not that I am bitter.
Ah, well. Nothing to do but turn on Judge Mathis and eat peanut butter cookies.
Maybe this isn't so bad after all.
I'm sorry to hear bout that :<
ReplyDeleteFeel better.
Nice narration though, very clear and such.
Freaking awesome blog A.J.
ReplyDeleteI shall have to teach you how to walk on snow/ice like a true minecrafter (MINE THAT SHIT BECAUSE THAT SHIT'S RARE).
Mmm... peanut butter cookies.
ReplyDeleteAhem. Very well told story. Though sad! Repeatedly breaking bones must be a terrible experience, though it is good blog material. No blogging while on morphine, though. That could turn out badly.
It was smart to break this into two parts. That worked well.
Yikes! What a story. You seem to be handling all the injuries well, though, or at least you put on a brave face about them. Dogs and peanut butter cookies do good things for the mood, I find.
ReplyDeleteYou write a good blog.
I love your blog! Haha the typical "AJ-humor" is great, i can certainly hear you saying this. The only part i dislike is the peanut butter cookies.
ReplyDeleteLOL. I have never broken a bone, but it seems like you have broken enough for the two of us.
ReplyDeleteYou remind of Darth Sion. Broken and repaired so many times that his body is almost entirely scar tissue, making him unfeeling, yet resilient.
This dude.
http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Darth_Sion
Peace do blog while on morphine that would turn out wonderfully. I'm glad you seem to be dealing with these injuries well. Next time I see you in the hallway I shall carry your things.
ReplyDelete