You know that scene in Misery.....?

I used a lot more obscenities when my foot folded that way Sunday afternoon.

So... for those of you who have asked, here's the details (skip em if you are squeamish, but I will try to keep it to a minimum). I was carrying two small computer towers (sideways, stacked one on top of the other) to the strata complex's common room. This room is down four concrete steps and the door is at a right angle to the bottom stair. Hubby had already propped the door open, so I just wanted to get the computers in the room and go back up to watch kiddo (still in the townhouse). Instead, I slipped on the second to last or last step (not sure which) reached out with my right arm to steady the fall (bruised and scraped, but not broken), dropped the computers (I think they missed me, but may have in fact complicated things) and slammed into the door at the bottom. As I say, when I looked down, my foot was folded sideways; dislocated at the ankle.

I screamed bloody murder and Hubby got to me in about three strides. He steadied my leg and got me to focus; a neighbour was already on the phone with a 911 operator. Hubby called his mother to come watch kiddo while they loaded me into the ambulance.

I arrived at the hospital at roughly noon and was seen to fairly quickly. X-rays confirmed the dislocation of the talar (foot bone) plus breaks to both the tibia and the fibula (leg bones). The surgeon spoke to me about the operation (pins and plates and other fun stuff) and said he may or may not see me that evening. By 8:00 we learned that there were no more spots in the operating rooms, so I would be going in first thing Monday. The operation seems to have gone smoothly; I go back to see the surgeon for reassessment on September 4th.

I won't say much about the hospital stay except that sharing a room sucks -- I shared mine with a loud, bitter old man, a loud, whiny teenager, and, on the first night a man hooked to a machine that went click-click-click-WHRRRRRR all damn night. The second night, machine guy was replaced by a woman who reminded me of my grandmother (broken hip and all) who, in the middle of the night started mumbling that she needed to "get back to the hospital" for her operation in the morning. The nurse had to turn on the lights to prove she was *already in* the hospital. My extended medical covers a private room, but I tried that after kiddo was born -- the hospital staff did everything they could not to laugh out loud then; I wasn't about to suggest it this time. As it was, the shortage of beds meant that the bed beside of me was empty for less than three hours between patients.

Still, it all could have been worse. I landed on my back on the steps -- I could easily have damaged my spine or my head... and that would never do. Plus, I am thankful that my recent walking regimen (generally twice a week around Ring Road -- about 1.2 miles -- plus stairs in lieu of elevators where possible) has kept my legs in good enough shape that there doesn't seem to be any muscle, nerve or other major internal damage on my foot; and getting around, though tough, is not impossible.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to watch some Looney Tunes before I dip into some more Tylenol 3s.