Do the ankle gods hate me?


The plants on my front porch were thirsty, and I had a few minutes before I needed to leave to the doctor’s office. I am still on crutches — but more on that later — so the plan was to hop to and from the porch, sans crutches. The silver-colored leg extensions of mine were placed inside my apartment, near the front door, for easy access. I needed one of my hands to carry a water bottle.
The mission was so close to being a success.
As I was hopping back to the front door of the building, I tripped on the door mat, and was immediately launched forward. I knew I would collide with the glass door and decorative iron that protects the glass, so I stuck my hands out. But I wasn’t quick enough, and I needed more than one arm to stop me. I was favoring the left arm because I was still clutching the water bottle.
Instinctively, my right foot came down. The right foot with the injured ankle.
For the first time in a month and a half, my foot was flat on the floor.
I don’t think anyone was around to hear how expansive my vulgar vocabulary is, or my preference for certain words that start with “S” and “F”.
I made it into my apartment, let myself fall on my midnight blue couch, and continued my rant.
Why, ankle gods, do you torment me so?
Is it not enough that I am still treating the calluses on my hands? That I have small spots under my armpits, on the side of my body, from where the crutches rub against me? Is it not enough that I must seriously contemplate how and when to go the grocery store, or that I schedule those trips around someone else’s schedule? Is it not enough that I kneel on a dining room chair to cook dinner?
Yes, I have slimmed down and toned up. I can’t remember when I last had muscle in my arms. And I’ve learned to drive left footed. You’d be surprised how much more obvious it is that so many right-footed drivers can’t drive.
But my wrists hurt. As does my back. And shoulders.
What about the doctor, you ask?
Almost a week after a visit to my primary care doctor, I now have an appointment scheduled at an orthopedic hospital. For June 10th. The first available.
I will bring my xray, which looks like, well, a foot, since nothing appears to be broken or fractured. It’s possible I’ll get an MRI and/or physical therapy. I also inquired about a knee scooter.
I remind myself this could be worse. I could have gone through the glass door this morning. I could have been chewed up by a hippo, tossed in the air like a rag doll, and have lost a limb.
Thank Allah, Buddha, and the Virgen de Guadalupe I have a poking session next week. Acupuncture always makes me feel better.
And in case you’re curious, so do cheese, wine, books, and movies. The pastries from Paris Baguette in Ktown aren’t too shabby either.


2 thoughts on “Do the ankle gods hate me?

  1. Be careful with the knee scooter. I had a coworker use one for 2 months and after his foot heeled, he started walking with a limp and his knee still hurts. He also complains that his back hurts. He is over weight tho. Maybe this caused all the other problems after using the knee scooter.


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