Tumblelina

Its not an error in spelling, its all about the tumble. Just call me Tumblelina or perhaps that Should be TumbleLisa?  Interesting.....

Truth is, we all know I fall down a lot. This is no surprise...and its not even worthy of conversation anymore than breathing or nose-blowing may be.   It is however what happens WHEN I fall down that becomes the baffling mystery.  "How did you do that?" is a question I hear frequently enough that it makes me wonder just how much of an oddity I am?  Does no one else experience the same proclivity for injury through contortions as I do?

So Sprocket was not feeling well and went to the vet yesterday. As he was still feeling poorly last night and had another appointment this morning, I found myself in the kitchen preparing to give him medicine for pain. Bear with me.. I'm getting to the point......Well leave it to me to find that one spot on the floor that is wet, for whatever unexplainable reason, and naturally I slip and fall.  Naturally!   Its not a small quiet or graceful fall, but epic and I'm sure ugly to see. I knock over the trash can on my way down and manage to pull the kitchen towel off of the oven too.  One knee goes forward and loses a few layers of skin in the process while the other leg goes behind me and the foot somehow twists in such a fashion that I land on the top of it while it sits at an unusual angle. I didn't know my foot, or anyone's foot for that matter, could bend that way.  Isn't that odd?

 So as I gather my wits and prepare to upright myself, my 16 year old, shaking his head in wonderment and complete amazement, picks up the trash can and the mess I've created. I guess this is normal to him by now. As I grasp the door of the oven to pull myself off the floor I realize with a sudden jolt that I can't place any pressure on or rely on the assistance of my left foot. The pain is searing and though I don't see any of the telltale instant swelling or bruising of a sprain, the pain is not in my imagination.  Oh yes, its real.

Wyatt helps me to the couch and sets about creatively designing tools for me to utilize around the house.  He designs a makeshift crutch from the broom with a towel and a belt, but its too tall for me. Next he makes a cane from a sword and a towel and belt.  This works better. Then he abandons and hides out in his room before I can start asking him to do things for me.  That diet coke isn't going to grow legs and walk to me, you know. Looks like I'm on my own, with my sword cane.

Long story short...I managed to fracture a teeny tine bone on the top of my foot. They want me to RICE (Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevate) and to wear a boot.  But the boots are clunky and not at all fashionable.  I think I'll do the best I can with the RICE and suck it up.  I'm tough. If sprocket can face his ailments like a trooper then so can I.  The Boot just isn't going to work for me.

The best part of the whole story is....I was right.  My foot, no foot, is supposed to bend that way.