Check out this beast.
Now THAT is a cankle.
As per usual, I was my graceful self and disaster ensued. I fell down sideways on my foot after I went up for a block during a game of pickup volleyball with some coworkers last night and this is the result. It is a really silly feeling to miss work because of a sprained ankle, but driving nearly an hour with my left foot down a 4-lane highway isn't the best choice, and so I'm thankful for a principal who gently suggested that we find a sub and that I forego the journey.
So today involved explaining to strangers over and over why I'm hopping to my car (No, creepy dude, I don't want your help, but I appreciate the gesture) or into my apartment on one foot until my crutches arrive (they are coming tomorrow thanks to my superhero friend Mel). Plus I had my purse around my shoulder, so that's bouncing around up and down as I hop, and as Karley commented while I explained this whole ordeal to her over the phone: There is just no graceful way to hop on one foot. Truer words have never been spoken. Once I hopped to my car I had the diabolical challenge of pushing the gas pedal. My left-foot driving was nothing short of ridiculous, as I nervously cruised around 10 miles per hour under the speed limit. I watched the actual shock of other drivers who passed me, expecting to see an elderly woman and found me instead.
When I finally reached the (second floor - woof) doctor's office I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. A very long tunnel in the shape of a hallway. Exhausted from all the one foot hopping, I slowly hobbled my way down the hall a few steps at a time, pausing to get my balance every few steps. In the midst of one of these pauses a man and a woman walked down the hall in the opposite direction, noticing my struggle. I said, "Hi!" The guy said, "Woah! Your ankle is huge!" I said, "Yeah, I am definitely aware of that, so thanks!" and we continued on our separate ways. I finally got to the front desk, they immediately sat me down in a wheel chair, and pushed me to the exam room. It made me feel like a total hypochondriac to be pushed in a wheelchair as a fully functional 25-year-old, but I was so stinking thankful for a break from all the hopping. The doctor finally saw me, was a super cool guy, and deemed it a severe sprain, in need of crutches for about a week and a month of physical therapy. My mind was all INSURANCE! HMO! WHAT'S PHYSICAL THERAPY?! But I kept a cool appearance on the exterior.
I thanked him for the air cast, hobbled my way back home, and left-foot-drove through Chik-Fil-A for lunch, adding a milkshake onto my order. Because you know about how dairy is a part of the food pyramid and everything.
In one big spree of feeling sorry for myself, I spent as much time on the social medias as I wanted (consider yourselves STALKED), watched a lot of Kimmy Schmidt on The Netflix, and didn't consider the idea of showering until 3:15 in the afternoon. I'm getting to that step now. All in all, my life isn't bad if the worst thing that's happened in weeks is a day to watch funny TV shows, drink milkshakes, and text nasty pictures of my pregnant ankle to my friends and family.
Happy weekend, friends!
Hey, at least you messed up your ankle doing something athletic like playing volleyball. I messed up mine at about the same age by performing the extreme athletic feat of walking off a curb.
ReplyDeleteEnjoy the bit of time off (bummer of a time of year to have that happen).