So last night I’m leaving work heading to my car when I step off the concrete ledge onto the pavement between my car and another. Except instead of there being flat, wonderfully solid pavement there is a huge crack and pothole in the solid ground I wasn’t expecting.  Needless to say, my right ankle rolled and popped under me, and I face-planted it.  I must have sat on the ground in the dark between two cars crying for what seemed like an hour but was probably ten minutes wiling myself to stand up and begging my ankle to stop throbbing.  Eventually, I hobbled to my car unlocked the door and crawled to safety, but driving with my busted right foot wasn’t going to happen.  So I did the only logical thing… I drove home with my left.  After the slowest three mile drive of my life, I finally made it home and into my bed to survey the damage.  Upon seeing how swollen it had become so quickly, I called Cory, and after a quick game of phone tag, he was on his way to help me decide if I needed to be hospital bound.  With a quick consult of WebMD, we decided it was probably just a sprain, and ice and elevation with a side of multiple episodes of House and some good company/nursing was what any doctor would have called for to be better by morning.

Sleep did not come easily, and by the time I woke up this morning, I had zero mobility and could barely even stand.  When it took me over an hour to get to the bathroom, get dressed, brush my hair, and put my hair in a ponytale, I realized that maybe I needed to seek medical attention.  Once again, Cory saved the day and chauffeured me to the ER.  Lucky for me, the place was almost empty at just after 8am, and I was back in radiology within 15 minutes of arriving.  After repeating ‘no, I’m not pregnant’ at least four times, x-rays were taken and I was headed to a room.  Somehow I should have known that being put in a room so quickly would not end as well as I had hoped, but my judgement was so clouded with pain that I didn’t find it as odd as I should have when the nurse instructed me to undress for my full exam.  I’m sure somewhere in the back of my brain an alarm usually would have been going off that ankle injuries do not require clothes-less exams, but the batteries had died in that alarm when I ate pavement last night.

So like a good patient (something I rarely am) I disrobed and went to put on the gown they had left me.  Have you ever seen Tommy Boy???  Remember the Fat Guy In A Lil Coat scene.  Well, welcome to my gown experience. This gown was small, but I followed orders and shoved my arms through the arm holes like a dutiful child.  However, there was not enough fabric to cover my chest.  So while the gown was on, my arms were sticking straight out the front, and my back was left completely exposed.  Looking like some freak, one-legged robot, I climbed into bed to wait.  Twenty minutes and a round of text messages to family and friends to let them know where I was later, the nurse came back in with a chart in hand looked at me and then the chart before confessing that there had been a patient mix-up.  Since I did not have a kidney stone and wasn’t twelve years old, I could put my clothes back on, and my real doctor (not the kidney one but the ankle one) would be in shortly.

The next hour was spent looking at my films (no breaks), prepping me with an air cast for my severely sprained ankle with minor ligament damage, and teaching me how to use crutches properly.  Mmmm an air cast and crutches, what a great way to spend the holidays!  To make a long story a tad bit shorter with Cory’s help, I made it to work for over five hours (haha to taking 3-4 days off of work) and am now resting with my leg elevated and ice on my ankle.  Just to prove that I’m not making it all up, I’m including pictures of my awesome ankle, badass crutches, and soon to be pink air cast.  I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again… who wouldn’t wanna be me?!?!

My ankle this am. Notice the awesome swelling and bruising. If only I could find an eyeshadow in that pretty lavender shade.

Who wants to help decorate my air cast??? I bought it. Might as well, Laurel-fy it.

Oh, hospital wristband. Truly the perfect accessory to wear to an interview you’re helping conduct. Nothing says, ‘wanna come work with us’ like the chance that your newest coworker has just escaped from the hospital.