Dec 10 2011


Day 1 - A Day Like Any Other

Filed under injury

*I am going back and filling out the timeline from my personal journal from the date all the way until now, so the dates aren’t current, but its the only way I know to keep track*

Last night was the beginning of a long road to recovery. Only I didn’t know it yet. I wouldn’t know it until about the 5th day in.

It started out as a day like any other, so certainly the post is aptly named. It was a typical Friday night during the Christmas Holiday Season.

At 6pm I was dropping one of my daughters off, to do this: (see photo on right)

During the month of December, my kids participate in Christmas Traditions on Main Street in St. Charles. Year round they are in a Fife & Drum corps. and we travel all over, but come Christmas time, they lead the parade down main street every single Friday, Saturday and Sunday followed by all kinds of cool Victorian characters and carolers and Santa’s from all over the world.

So Friday, one of my daughters (who is visible in the background behind the flag), was heading down to play her fife for the evening crowd of shoppers that swarm the main street at night. The rest of my kids had opted out of that night and were returning home with me after we dropped her off.

We had to park a bit further away than usual, so we had to cross over a street to get to the cobblestones. See the cobblestones they are walking on? They are so pretty. It’s one of the things I love about main street and my town. I remember as a child feeling like I was in another world when I was down there. It still has that same effect. That feeling of excitement and wonder.

You have to be careful when walking on cobblestones though, they are uneven and certain shoes can be detrimental to your health. I strongly recommend NO high heels, and I shake my head when I see people down there in them. So unsafe. Anyway.

That’s not the point. But anyway, here’s a blown up picture of the cobblestone. (see photo on left)

See, uneven, as I said. But again, that isn’t really the point here. So already I’m cautious when I’m down there. After we crossed the street, there is a step up onto this sewer before you get to the grassy area on the side of the street. There is no sidewalk. Well, anyone who’s ever seen a sewer knows that in front of it, is usually a dip where the water collects to fall down into it.

When there’s cobblestones involved, and uneven pavement covering it, the dip is larger than normal, and WAY uneven. I stepped down into the dip and my foot decided it liked that spot so it stayed put. I knew it was going to happen before it actually seemed to, and it definitely felt like slow motion.

I fell forward while my foot stayed totally straight and wedged into this little dip. I heard an audible snap, I felt a snap and my kids scrambled to help me up. What I can remember is that my foot didn’t actually dislodge from its location until after I was standing back up.

By then the pain was excruciating and I knew this was not a simple sprain. In fact, I guessed at the time that I had torn at least a ligament if not two. I knew it wasn’t broken, or at least  I assumed it wasn’t. It took me about 5 minutes standing on one leg and balancing on my daughter to work up the nerve to hop back to our car to head back home. I sent my fifing daughter on her merry way to go fife the night away, telling her we’d be back in a few hours.

While I was standing there, I could literally feel the foot swelling. It was an odd sensation but as it swelled, it started to numb, and while there was definitely pain, I think I knew if I could wait for it to swell entirely, I could do this. I could walk, I could drive, I could at least get back home.

I won’t lie – I was wondering how I was going to manage coming back to get her, but I was thanking God, literally that it was my left foot and not my right. I can drive.

Did I happen to mention that my husband was out of town for this? Yeah. Like 2000 miles away in Portland, OR for work. And my mom lives over an hour away. And it’s a Friday night. My closest friends are all out doing their own things or with their families. Did I also happen to mention I really don’t like asking for help. Ever.

So I’m not sure how I did it, but I did manage to drive us the 20 minutes home. Hobbled into the house with a lot of support from my kids and crashed on the couch trying to figure out what to do. It took me over 20 minutes to work up the nerve to actually take my shoe off because the pain was so bad. My foot was so tight in that shoe, we were having conversations of cutting it off my foot. The pain was just that bad.

I took some Motrin, put some ice on it and called my mom. She begged and pleaded with me to go to the ER. She told me surely someone else could bring my daughter back home. At that point, I was still refusing.

Come 8:00pm I hobbled out the door to get my daughter from main street, making a brief stop at Walgreens to see if they had a brace of some kind. They didn’t. But I did pick up some crutches because there was no WAY I could get around without them, it was starting to really effect me. The Motrin had helped, but the pain went beyond what the Motrin could control and what I could feasibly manage walking on.

When we got home, I spent about an hour debating what to do.

By 11pm I knew I had to go to the ER. My foot & ankle were swollen about 3x’s the size they are normally. An odd bruising pattern was showing up on my foot that was not familiar of any sprain I’d ever suffered or a few years ago when I tore a ligament in my left foot. And the bruising was formulating on the back part of my foot/ankle. Another thing that seemed odd to me at the time.

Taking my two oldest with me, we headed down to the ER.

For an hour while we were there, I had x-rays and the doctor hmmm’d and haaaa’d a lot. He seemed perplexed, and I remember wondering what he was thinking. He kept running his finger gently along the back of my foot which sent me into fits of pain and I wanted to crawl off the bed.

Three hours later I was on my way home with a partial cast, a diagnosis of a sprain, a prescription for Vicodin and a follow up appointment requested for Monday with an Orthopedic Surgeon. That probably should have been my first clue something was amiss. Sadly, it was not.

I didn’t sleep a wink that night and Monday could not arrive fast enough.

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