Secret Revealed

There is a saying in my immediate family about how when things would get stressful, my dad would go out and fall down the stairs. In his late years, he had dementia and when the whole house was in an uproar, such as getting ready for a trip or some big event, he would catch that "uproar" feeling and become very restless. On several such occasions, my dad literally went out and fell down the stairs--right "in the middle of all that hurrah" (another Edna-ism).

Fast forward twenty years to a dark and stormy night--the Sunday before Christmas this year.  I was delivering neighbor gifts with my son J as chauffeur.  Is there a more hectic time than just before Christmas?  I went up some wooden side stairs at a neighbor's house where there was no exterior light, set my gift down (the neighbor was not home) and, while running back down the stairs in the rain and the dark, I miscalculated the number of stairs.  Thinking I was on the last stair (but was in fact on the second to the last stair), I stepped into mid-air, came down on a mat or something, twisted my ankle--landing hard on the outside of my ankle.  If this was all, I believe there would have been a less painful ending to this story.  However, inexplicably, I rose up (maybe my hand was momentarily still on the railing and I pulled back up but my momentum kept me going forward?) and then I came down a second time like a jackhammer, with all my weight and with my momentum from running down the stairs, straight back down on the outside of that ankle.  I crumpled to the ground and could not get up.

 Like father, like daughter:  amidst all the Christmas hurrah, I went out and fell down the stairs!

I knew J could not see me there behind the stairs. I searched my pockets for my cell phone, hoping to call him to come help me. No phone. So I knew I had to crawl.  With my foot held up gingerly behind me, I slowly and shakily crawled about fifteen feet before J caught sight of me.  He unrolled the window and said, "Mom, WHAT are you doing?!"  He thought I had lost something and was searching for it on the ground! Funny, now.  He helped me to the van and we went home so B could take me to Instacare.

Initially, the doctor thought I would need surgery to put in a pin, but the x-rays showed I probably did not (as did the x-rays this past Monday). Of course, x-rays do not show soft tissue damage.  He said it looked like a third-degree sprain. He instructed me to go home and keep my leg elevated.  Today, two weeks later, that is basically where I am: in bed or in a recliner with my foot elevated, getting around on crutches and not able to put weight on my foot.  Really, I am not able to have my foot down for more than about five or ten minutes without pain.  Talk about a schedule-clearer.

I have my able kids and my husband here at my beck and call (mwhahaha) so I am getting along just fine. So do not worry or bring food.  I have plenty of help.  And next time things get hectic, I will stay away from stairs!

A week after the fact.