Sunday, September 10, 2006
Sometimes Murphy's Law just strikes and leaves. Other times Murphy's Law sticks around seemingly forever.
A few weeks ago, I felt I was simply in "a Monday" for several days straight. Then life went back to normal. I had several articles published (okay, still not paid ones, but published and being read!), work was moving along swimmingly, every family members health seem to be either fine, or on the mend- normalcy had come back home to roost. Then last week happened and my co-worker lost his only child. (Last week's column "A complete departure").
A couple of more articles were accepted. Life was somewhat balanced.
I have rheumatoid arthritis, it's pretty well under as much control as much as most people who have it can possibly hope for, except sometimes. I mention this because last Wednesday, was one of my sometimes.
I had come home from the day job. I had worked a very long day and my knees had buckled a couple of times. I was slightly achy. But my daughter and son-in-law were over and our son was home for a change, we decided to take advantage of this windfall and go out and celebrate their 2nd anniversary a few days early while we were all together.
As I exited the house and stepped into the garage, my knee decided now was a good time to buckle once again. Stupid knee-I went down like a wet bath towel onto the ground. My husband helped me up and asked if I was okay.
I said "I think I'm going to need an icepack when we get back from dinner, my foot hurts, and my knee and oh, my hand"
Having lived with his arthritic bride in this state and worse for many years, my darling other half just replied "it figures".
My son-in-law, trying to lighten the situation said, "Carine, I think this is a season-ending injury"
How right he was.
As we sat there at dinner, I felt my foot swelling, by bruised knee stinging, the rest of me becoming more sore by the moment. I wasn't going anywhere until our celebration was over.
We said goodnight and gave the parents caution of "Drive safe" and went home.
I tried the icepacks on all the injured limbs. All felt better, save one-the foot.
"Honey, take me to the ER"
"Why, you just twisted it, you'll be better tomorrow morning"
"Not this time, I'm pretty sure I broke it"
He was not happy, since he decided to get into his pj's. But, he re-dressed and took me to the hospital. Got me a wheelchair and I checked in.
Guess what? After the initial questions and x-rays, the doctor came in and told me I had indeed broken my metatarsal. "But if you had to break your foot, this was how to do it"
I mentioned my rather pesky joints, but after putting me in a temporary splint (swelling had to come down), he still gave me crutches.
By the next afternoon and a full day of work, my foot hurt less than the rest of my joints. In fact, I winced everytime a trip to the ladies room became necessary. By nightfall, crying didn't seem silly at all.
Thankfully, we are a frugal and ecologically-minded family. My sister, who had an accident at the beginning of the year and had to use a walker, brought it over for me to reuse.
Yes, the foot bone's connected to the funnybone, but sometimes it just takes a very long time before you can remember that particular point.