So, in anticipation of our impending 5th bundle of joy and our family vacation to the DC area this summer where we will be doing a lot of walking around, we toyed with the idea of getting a double stroller. Our #4 just turned a year, and at a year and a half when we go, I don’t want to make him walk most of the time. I also don’t want him to monopolize the stroller and I’d have to sling the newborn around the entire time.
So, we discovered that Babies R Us was doing this trade-in thing, where you bring in any ratty old thing (car seat, crib, stroller) and get 25% off a new one. Even though we don’t need the double now, we thought it’d be best to take advantage of that sale and just get it. So hubby left work around 5 and I left home with the boys at the same time and we met up at the store and traded in a spider-webby old stroller and got a new double one.
Then hubby mentions that he’s hungry, and I’m betting the boys are too, and since there’s a very affordable pizza buffet just around the corner, we went out to dinner as well. We had a lovely dinner.
And that was the end of the loveliness. Hubby offered to take someone in his car, and #1 called dibs, but he went ahead and put the baby in his car seat in the minivan first. I should mention that I’m one of those people who purposely park waaaaaaaaaaay far away from the door, as opposed to hubby who’ll drive around for 10 minutes looking for the closest parking space available. So, he was right by the door, where I was out in no man’s land right next to the storm drain. Which, when I stepped off the curb to get into the minivan, I forgot was there. The storm drain, that is, not the minivan.
Completely forgetting about the slanting ground there, I rolled the crap out of my left ankle, and heard an odd sound. Not exactly a pop, not quite a snap, but a sound that should not have come out of my ankle. I sort of crumpled to the ground, yelled for hubby, and both he and #1 came sprinting across the parking lot to my rescue.
After sitting there for a minute and taking off my shoe, we began to assess the situation. Hubby thought it’d be a good idea to go to the ER. I kept feeling my foot and ankle, and wiggling my toes, and saying that as much as it hurt, I didn’t think I broke anything, cause 1. feeling around I surely would have hit upon the broken bone and touching the area should have caused me much pain, and 2. I could still wiggle my toes. I couldn’t have broken anything.
Hubby mentioned to me that when he destroyed his ankle several years back, he could still wiggle his toes too. I thought, well, crap, that argument’s rather invalid then. Several years back, hubby slipped on some wet tile and slid foot-first into a concrete wall. He dislocated his tibia (the bigger front bone) about 2 inches forward, and broke the fibula (the smaller bone in back), as well as destroying pretty much all the cartilage in his ankle. It was bad. Really bad.
He asked if I could put weight on it. I tried, and said no, and gave in to going to the ER. We checked in, I pulled out my yarn bag and started knitting in the waiting room, and hubby thought it’d be a good idea to take the boys home and put them in bed cause who knows how long it’ll be before they can see me. I agree. So, he leaves with the boys, and I’m left with my yarn. I did get quite a few rows done on #4’s baby blanket. A few hours and 3 x-rays later, I leave with crutches, a boot, and a broken 5th metatarsal. Apparently, the ligaments down there around your ankle are so strongly attached to the bone that rolling your ankle bad enough can cause the ligaments to pull the bone apart. Thankfully, I did not have a full break, just more like a crack in the bone right near my ankle.
We saw an orthopedic dr a few days later and he said as long as I didn’t do anything stupid, it would heal up fine on it’s own. Just stay off it until it felt good enough to put weight on it. So, hubby went out and bought a mini fridge for our bedroom, stocked it up with lunchables and snacks and water and juice, and baby and I have pretty much been grounded to the upstairs since the incident.
Remembering my previous post, a knitting friend asked if I had perhaps sustained my injury assaulting medical personnel. I think that’s the story I’m sticking with, cause what really happened was rather stupid. Who steps off a curb and breaks their foot? I’m just glad I had my knitting with me. Again.