Oh yes, gravity works. Unfortunately.
Halloween started out pretty good. I had my nifty witch costume on and got a lot of compliments (especially on the fuzzy tarantula I was wearing on my shoulder), but there weren't a lot of trick or treaters out. After it got slow, I put the Things in the car, and we went over to a neighborhood where a bunch of Thing 1's friends were. I was herding around quite a group of kids, when I had to break and take one of them home.
On the way to the car, me and my screwed up neurological system decided that it was going to forget how to walk. Next thing I knew, I was coming down on my left leg, and my ankle snapped sideways underneath me. I hit the ground, but at least I know how to fall, so I just have a skinned right knee .... and the ankle.
It immediately started swelling up and totally filled the combat boot. I managed to drive everybody home, with a whole lot of whimpering and groaning. Then I made the big mistake. I took the boot off.
At that point, the Things bolted for the neighbors. One took me to the ER, while the other took the kids.
It's not broken. That's the BAD news.
The ER doc told me I'd have been better off I HAD broken it. Every Single Tendon and ligament in my ankle is fucked up. Those that aren't torn are pulled. I'm in a hideously annoying splint for at least 3 weeks, and on crutches for that long as well. I also was ORDERED to see an orthopedist to work on trying to handle the damage. Hopefully I can see the same one that rebuilt my arm and worked on DG's ankle.
Unfortunately, they gave me the exact same pain meds I regularly take, so for this intense new pain, they ain't doin squat. I HURT.
And of course, DG is off and working, so it's just the wounded and crippled me here with the kids. Fun fun fun.
SO .... how was YOUR Halloween?
Veni, Vidi, Ventus --
The randomly chaotic and crafty scribblings of a deranged, wannabe artist allowed too many colours in her Crayon box.
Surgeon General's Warning: Some content of "From Pooka's Crayon" may not be suitable for: work, blue-haired little old ladies, the politically-correct, rabid moonbats, uptight mothers, priests, chronic idiots, insurance claims agents, Democrats, children, small furry quadropeds from Alpha Centauri, or your sanity.
The randomly chaotic and crafty scribblings of a deranged, wannabe artist allowed too many colours in her Crayon box.
Surgeon General's Warning: Some content of "From Pooka's Crayon" may not be suitable for: work, blue-haired little old ladies, the politically-correct, rabid moonbats, uptight mothers, priests, chronic idiots, insurance claims agents, Democrats, children, small furry quadropeds from Alpha Centauri, or your sanity.
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