Mind the gap

So....CLEARLY there is a massive gap in my blogging. I have only one excuse for my silence: Me fall down go boom. Yes--It's been three months of ankle-busting hell. And sure you may be thinking "What? Does she type with her toes?" (helps if that comes out sounding like a Jewish Bubbie) No. I've just been in a bruised state on my couch--icing, elevating and wondering. Not really in the mood to share. If you've ever hurt yourself--I'm sure you can relate to the stages: Pain. Pills. Pleas. Peas.* Pathetic. And finally--Perturbed. So now I'm back and ready to re-live the trauma--because I'm (mostly) over it. And I can sit at my desk without having to prop my ankle up on a trash can. So hold on to your seats. (or pretty much anything to keep you upright) Cuz the way this went down (or I went down) -- you really can't make up.

I love Christmas. Doesn't matter what's going on in my life--good, bad, completely ugly--anything fa-la-la puts a smile on my fa-la-face. I got my tree early because I knew it would make me happy. My good friend Matt helped me put it in the stand--so I couldn't do that annual "you're supposed to help me" Ex blame game that goes with me trying to wrestle a six foot tree all by myself.                                          

The next day I went to San Francisco with my mom--first the museum--then Union Square for Christmas shopping and lunch. As we walked into the restaurant--an elderly man was exiting the door at the same time, so I opened it and held it for him. Sadly, he took a terrible fall trying to walk through. We helped him up. And not five minutes after being seated at our table-- the woman sitting next to us stood up and took a tumble too.

At this point--my mom and I started joking about people falling--"too much Christmas cheer? The stress of holiday shopping?" That quickly turned to talk about "watching where you walk." My mom fell and badly broke her ankle five years ago. Since then, I've been so worried about her--always telling her to wear non-skid shoes and hold on to railings. As we walked to see the big tree in Union Square I said just that-- "hold on to the rail--don't slip the stairs are wet!" Now I don't want to say I "willed" what happened next upon myself--but seriously? From my mouth to God's ears. Or at least that's how it felt.

After that lovely day with my mom, I went home early to attend a holiday party--one of those ornament exchanges where your gift can get "lifted" from another guest? Leaving you with something that really doesn't "go" with your tree decor--like the proverbial holiday-glitter-bra ornament? I was twenty minutes late to the party and even thought about turning around because I was tired and running late.** But I'm trying hard to not be an old maid who sits at home too much. So I kept driving. 

When my friend opened the door, she informed me I was the first to arrive and asked if I'd mind helping her finish setting up--by moving her dining room chairs upstairs. Now, I'm a helper. I don't mind helping. Especially someone who is courageous enough to throw a party in their home.*** Without blinking an eye--or apparently using one--I picked up the heavy chair--and headed in the direction of the stairs. What I didn't see--was the gigantic step down into the foyer that led to the staircase...and down we both went. Me and the heavy chair.

Embarrassed beyond belief--I sat on the floor in a WTF just happened daze. I quickly realized it wasn't the embarrassment--but the pain--that paralyzed me. My frantic host-friend ran over-- are you okay'd me-- and continued to take the chair upstairs. She was concerned but had 15 guests arriving soon. I couldn't stand right away--so I knew I did something. I found a way to upright myself--and thought--well? It hurts like hell--but I can put weight on it--how bad can it be? They say if you can step on it--its not broken. At least that's what they taught me in Girl Scouts. So I stayed. For the ornaments, of course.

Two hours later and after opening my little wooden carved zoo animal "ornaments?" with twine hangers, I realized I couldn't feel my foot. So I excused myself and went to the bathroom. I could barely pull my Uggs off. **** Once I painfully removed the shoe--I was horrified by the grapefruit-sized massive swelling on the side of my ankle. I couldn't get the Uggs back on. After being given a bag of frozen peas and told "you'll never get into an ER on a Saturday night"--I decided I couldn't stand the pain enough to wait for the party games (no comment) and drove myself 20 minutes to the ER by my house. Drove. With a right foot now resembling a holiday pork tenderloin.

I thought, "If the parking lot doesn't look too bad--I'll go in." Happily--even though it was 8pm on a holiday Saturday night--it looked empty. They quickly brought me back, registered me and gave me some ice. And there I sat--FOR FOUR HOURS. With a dripping, melting ice bag...and no help. Apparently these people didn't drive there. They arrived by ambulance or paddy wagon. Hence the empty lot. Behind the ER curtain I heard a drunk guy talk about getting in a fight. I heard a homeless woman bitch out a nurse who told her she has a UTI and then I heard TMI about the men she was having sex with on the street. I called my mom even though the sign said "circle-red-line-through-cell-phone". I didn't cry--but we both could not believe our conversation about falling, just hours before. We were both a little scared.    

About hour 3.5 I hopped off the bed and did some bitching of my own at the nurse's station. "I realize a bad ankle is low priority--but I have insurance that will pay! Real money! Cash! All you want!?" They brought me into Xray and finally gave me some Motrin. In the midst of what was coming and going in the ER that night--my little fall wasn't so important I guess. At 12:48 am, the doctor told me nothing was broken--they fitted me with some crutches and told me to ice and elevate. Sent me home. No help to my car. Having never used crutches before--and juggling my purse, shoes, ice bag and release papers--this was not such an easy task. Couldn't they even have wheeled me to my car? NOW I wanted to cry.

I hate to break it to you, but those TV images of new moms on Lifetime and Gray's Anatomy patients being wheeled out by a smiling orderly--aren't really real. You're on your own Lynnie. Just mind the gap.

And these were lessons I had to learn over and over in the coming weeks. Taking care of yourself on one foot is a challenge. You don't realize how your feet effect everything. Forget about walking or working out--I'm talking about making toast, turning over in bed, answering the phone. Couch-bound in my little house with no family in town--I had to rely on a co-worker, my land lady and Safeway delivery for my existence and my sanity. After a couple days--I learned that using frozen blueberries wasn't a good icing option (when they melt they stain) and I thought I finally had the incessant spilling under control. I shifted from glasses and mugs to an adult sippy cup. I thought I was a genius when I used my Starbucks coffee travel mug for everything--including wine. But somehow--my crutches managed to knock that over too. I got pretty good at getting in and out of the shower--first sit on the toilet. Slide the good leg over the edge of the tub. Grab the faucet and pull with all my might. It's amazing I didn't slip and break my neck. Balancing on one leg in the shower is probably NOT recommended for sprain patients. Neither is shaving your legs.

(Yikes this is getting long. Up next, part 2... or "Oops I did it again.")

*I still can't bring myself to cook with frozen peas. And I love peas.
**Lesson: Always listen to your gut. Always. Even if it means sitting on your couch feeling like an old maid.
***Just say no to moving furniture when you're a guest. Stay a guest. Lift a glass instead.
****Uggs are uggly and deadly. Your foot is basically flipping around in a giant cotton ball with no support.