Let me start off with, I am epic amounts of clumsy.
I'm not the silly type of clumsy. I'm talking clumsy to the extreme, I honestly should come with a warning label. My husband might have priced out personal bubbles.
The stories of my clumsiness are Numerous!
-The time I biffed it in ice and almost didn't make it to my deployment.
-The time I fell down the stairs at work, and injured myself so bad (trying to save myself), I was in a neck brace for several months.
-The time I was working with my dad and nailed myself in the back with a steel beam.
... I could go on, but you get the picture.
This time doesn't come with a good story. I WISH there was a better story. Like, I was rushing to save my dog from a rabid wild werewolf, but honestly its just fucking lame.
The Friday after New Years, I had just put J down to sleep. I went to rush down stairs... and missed a couple.
I swear SWEAR, I only meant to jump the last step. B says the distance between the stairs and my sprawl, I had to have missed more than one.
It turns out I rolled my ankel BOTH directions. I had a minor avulsion (I think that's how its spelled) fracture on my inner ankel. But tore and angered everything on the outside ankle. In a word, FUCKINGOUCH!
I waited till Monday to be seen. I got this awesome sleeve and walking boot.
Its now 3 weeks later.
I'm still in the boot. The problem I'm having is, we have SUPER slick floors. So at least once a day I have to catch myself from sliding, thus effecting my foot in the boot. Not to mention, we have 3 floors in this house. We have a baby, and a dog.
The worst part is.... no running. I miss running. I miss my running group!
Im going to make an appointment in the morning to be seen. B thinks I'll need physical therapy.
... Fucking fuck
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