Last Wednesday, I slipped on my way into my office building. It was one of those falls where you can’t really explain how it happened, but seconds ago you were upright and now you know with great certainty you no longer are.
Pride kicked right in and I struggled to my feet with the assistance of a very nice man who I probably scared the shit out of when I took my header. The pain was there immediately and felt similar to what I felt when I wiped out in my office last year and sprained my foot. (Yeah, I am becoming accident-prone in my late 30s. It’s great fun.)
After toughing out two meetings (Say it with me: I’m an asshole), I finally came home to elevate and ice my foot. The pain didn’t get any better — I spent the night whimpering when I put the least amount of weight on my right foot, hopping on my left foot from sofa to bathroom to bed, and thanking God my studio is only 475 square feet.
Interminable story shorter, I saw a doctor on Thursday and learned I broke my fifth metatarsal.
Mine's a Jones or Avulsion fracture...can't remember which.
One month in a boot, 10-12 weeks to heal completely. I put up a wicked fight, bound and determined to make a scheduled work trip to Tampa on Friday. Yeah, no. Pipe dream. Folly.
I’ve picked up a couple of important little lessons along the way, and because you all can’t actually talk back to me, I’m gonna share ’em with you. Suckers.
1. Everyone needs an Audrey. It’s not just that Aud drove me home on Wednesday, brought me crutches on Thursday, filled my prescription and drove me home from the doctor’s (ok, to be honest, from the bar I went to after I left the doctor’s), and has checked on me without fail every six hours for five days. Somehow she figured out how to overpower my pride, which was threatening to get in the way of me getting the help I needed, without making me feel like an invalid infant. A million thank yous aren’t enough, Aud, but here’s one more: Thanks for making everything so much easier than it would have been on my own and for making sure I never once felt alone.
2. A lot of other people suck. A two-hour trip to Georgetown today to get my phone fixed and have lunch left me gobsmacked by the number of people who are either incredibly rude or bogglingly unaware of their surroundings. No, no, don’t hold the door for the girl on a crutch. Don’t worry about forcing me off the sidewalk so you can walk three abreast on your way to the big sale at J. McLaughlin, ladies. People suck.
3. I could never telecommute. Despite how much people suck (see item 2, above), I am a people person. I cannot spend three and a half days alone. Thank God Lizzie came to make me brunch and watch The Wire (I love you, Stringer Bell) on Saturday morning or I might have ended up wandering the halls of my apartment building in search of conversation, like the lady downstairs with the parrot on her head. Seriously. Parrot. On her head. I dunno.
4. The Internet is an amazing thing. I’ve read everything in my Google reader. I’ve read long articles about Mad Men and GTD. I’ve watched Super Bowl commercials and Leonard Cohen videos. I’ve had Skype happy hours with Mom and Daddy (and the dogs). I’ve tweeted and tweeted and tweeted. (Sorry about that.)
This afternoon, I napped and showered for only the second time since Wednesday. It only took 25 minutes. Back to work tomorrow, for as long as I can hack it. Sigh.
Spent a lot of time here over the last few days...