I had all these ideas about what I was going to do for Christmas…most of which went out the window even before Christmas Eve. (If I owe you a paper card, or god forbid a real gift, I’m sorry.) But I figured I could pull something off, and we had a turkey to cook on Christmas Day, and we even managed to put up the lights (so pretty) and decorate the tree (see below).
I got out of the door early – the college president shooed everybody out at 3 p.m. – but as I was walking down the front stairs to wait for the rest of the vanpool, I missed a step. Or slipped, or something. One of those stupid things that I do when I’m not fully aware of myself and how I’m moving. (Same way, pretty much, that I scratched and twisted my glasses last summer.) I remember sort of crying out…two random strangers came over and a guy with glasses helped me to my feet. I thought I was doing okay, tho with a good sharp bump on the elbow.
Got dropped off, did a bit of shopping, went home, went out for a little more shopping (groceries, mostly). Then finally sat down at home to take off my shoes and watch a little TV. Hmmm, my ankle feels a little sore.
And a little more sore, and more, and more, even with ice and Excedrin (the migrane formula, because that’s all we have). A couple of hours, and C. asked me if I was okay, and I honestly had to say, “no, I’m not okay.” I really didn’t want to go to the emergency room, mostly because the copay is so much higher, but the consulting nurse insisted, so we went off to the hospital on Christmas Eve night.
Thank goodness, nothing broken – just a very bad sprain. Some vicodin, and ice, and sleep, and elevation, and an aircast (which I have to wear for 7 days), and I’m doing much better. A bit of throbbing, this evening, because I pushed myself a little too hard today.
But it makes me feel low, thinking about yet another injury (my first big foot injury was 12(?) years ago, when I sprained my ankle after part of a bookshelf fell on it on Christmas Eve – yes, really), and how I was finally getting into physical therapy, and doing my exercizes (albeit erratically)…sigh.
That night (or maybe it was Sunday?) I was watching the Simpsons, and Homer says “that makes 3 Christmases I’ve saved – 8 I’ve ruined, and 2 were a wash.” yeah, something like that.