Emergency Room Shenigans: Part Two

So for the second time in my life (and in a month, no less - Hey when it rains it pours!) I found myself in the emergency room, this time with what turned out to be a broken foot.

I was leaving Club Cafe with some friends after dinner and some dancing and literally just stepped down a small single stair wrong and kind of half fell down which I have done several times before (Hello I am as graceful as a bear) but this time did it in such a way that as soon as I came half down on my foot, I went deaf for a minute and saw stars. I didn't even feel the pain yet but it came about 20 seconds later, giving me enough time to walk to the corner of the street before announcing to my friends that 1) I am pretty sure I just broke something and 2) I could no longer walk. What kills me is I was the designated driver and had been drinking water and club sodas!! And then me, sober sister, is the one who takes the tumble outside the bar! Had I known the intense pain of a broken bone I would have been swilling martinis all night in preparation, believe you me

In any case Jenny, thank god for her, hadn't had much to drink herself and volunteered to get my car and drive me to Quincy Hospital, my apparent new favorite place. The ride there was plagued with detours because two of the lanes of 93 South were closed as were various side streets we tried to navigate but thank god Jenny has kind of a built in GPS and got us there in no time. I was poked and prodded. I was X-rayed. I was told finally I had two broken bones on the top of my foot, one pretty normal looking and one not so much (think of two plates, one shifted up on top of the other. NOT really good times). Jenny and Adam were there to entertain me and take my mind of it while I waited to be splinted and drugged and it was actually, dare I say, kind of fun. The doctor was not particularly pleased with our senses of humor though:

Doctor: I am giving you a prescription of Vicodin
Jenny: WOOOO!
Doctor: Uhh that's not generally the response we like to hear.

In any case I made it home around midnight and remembered JUST what a bitch living in a third flood walkup is for persons with broken bones in their feet. Yikes. I am definitely not leaving my apartment until my appointment with the orthopedic surgeon on Monday. Until then, I consider this payback time for when Adam broke HIS ankle last year. Being waited on hand and (broken) foot doesn't seem all bad. Maybe I can get some sort of bell?

Kidding!

Anywho let this be a lesson, don't be a clutz if at all possible. And also NEVER say "I am pretty lucky, I have never broken a bone" because that is exactly what I said to a coworker yesterday.