Booted

You guys, yesterday did not turn out at all like I imagined. As is typical of me, I rolled my foot while walking (to work). What wasn't typical was the crack I heard and the persistent pain. To make a long story short, now I'm in a boot because of a fractured fifth metatarsal.




There are some things I want to say.

Michael very selflessly gave up his work day to come rescue me, then kindly piggy-backed me around and made sure I was properly iced, pain-killed, compressed, elevated, and comfortable (as much as possible, anyway).

It was useful that I was wearing my new pair of shoes from my brother's shoe company, Luchas, because I could ice without taking the shoe off.

I'm glad my sister Sica is an athletic trainer, because she listened to me describe the area that hurt and could confirm what Michael said: that I absolutely needed to go to a doctor, and quickly.

How wonderful to not only have a friend whose family business is her dad's podiatrist office, but also to have that family be totally generous: I went straight there, got a diagnosis, and was given what my friend dubbed "a miracle"--a free sample boot that had been sent to them the day before.

Walking in a boot is still painful. I don't know why I expected it to just suddenly fix things, like hiding it makes it non-existent.

Driving those jazzy things around Target is fun, embarrassing, and useful all at the same time.

Having my leg up exacerbates back problems and makes sleeping really difficult.

I've been thinking about how I've heard people say before that they felt like something bad happened for a reason, like God was telling them to slow down. Maybe I'll post more about this later.

Holding my foot really still makes it even colder than it usually is.

At least it's not worse. And at least my boss is super understanding.


That is all for now.