Yesterday afternoon, my SIL and I decided to hit the outlet mall to get in a little Memorial Day Sale action. I was in search of some new shoes for work. And I found several pairs. While we were in the ?Clark’s outlet I found my shoe nirvana. One pair in particular were so cute and comfortable that I decided to go ahead and put them on. Now, it has been awhile since I’ve worn wedges, but these weren’t too terribly high and were so much more comfortable than the flip flops I had been wearing up until then. I put them on, paid for them along with my other purchases and headed out the door, SIL in tow.
We walked for quite awhile with no problems coming from this particularly adorable pair of shoes. We hit several more stores and were actually heading back to the car to swing around to the other side of the outlet center when disaster struck. And this, folks, is where is gets not only incredibly ugly but oh so embarassing.
I wish I could tell you that I saw a kid in the street and some stupid frat boys barreling down on said kid in their SUV, but alas, that is not what happened. What happened is that I slowed down and stopped in front of American Eagle (I think) and then promptly rolled my ankle AFTER I STOPPED WALKING. And as I rolled my ankle, I heard a “POP.” I was instantly in pain and hobbled over to a nearby bench. Thankfully said bench was not far away at all. I looked down at my ankle only to discover that I now had what looked like two ankle bones. Things were not looking good.?
At this point, I handed SIL my keys, told her to get the car and called B. B was slightly less than helpful since he was a six pack to the wind on the beach. I decided to play it safe and SIL and I headed down to the hospital to get my ankle checked out. Did I mention the part where my FIL, SMIL and other SIL had just driven over from where they were staying to hang out with us on the beach? I have immaculate timing.
Turned out that B (after calling me eleventy billion times) got his dad to drive him up to the hospital. While he was on his way up, my SIL and I were in the ER waiting room giving my info to the registrar. This woman, while nice enough, has obviously never been out of state, much less seen a map. When she asked me what city I was born in, I opted to give her the country of my birth instead of my city because it really doesn’t matter with me. I told her, “Saudi Arabia.” She looked at my SIL like a deer in headlights and asked her to spell it. Oh yeah, and when I handed over my insurance card? ?She looked at the name on it and asked if B was my father. Nice, eh?
We made it back into a room fairly quickly and as the nurse was situating me in the room, she said, “And I’ll just go get a chair for mom to sit in.” Mom being my SIL. DOH! We both looked at each other with pretty much identical opened mouthed looks of incredulity. 1) My SIL does not look old enough to be my mom, 2) is NOT old enough to be my mom and 3) LOOKS NOTHING LIKE ME. The nurse did a whole hell of a lot of back tracking and left the room.
After that, it was fairly standard ER procedures. I had my ankle and foot x-rayed and was seen by the doctor and two interns/residents and was finally told that I had a sprain, but nothing was broken. By the time the x-ray techs were done with me, B had made it back to my little room in the ER. When the third intern/resident told me I could leave in a wrap or a boot and I opted for boot. He went out and got it and came back in. When he knelt down to put it on my foot, B said to him, “If that fits, you’ll have to take her to the ball.” We all had a good laugh and then I finally got to hobble out of there.
Today, I am confined to the condo with my foot propped up while I sit out on the balcony and stare at the pool below me and the beach just beyond. I’m hoping that by tomorrow I’ll feel more like venturing down to at least the pool. But for now, I’m playing it safe and staying off this stupid ankle.