we all fall down

Yeah, it wasn't how I intended to spend my Sunday morning. Visits to the ER should never interrupt church and visits with the family. But that's where I ended up, propped up on a gurney, waiting for x-rays of my foot.

I'm not inclined to gracefulness as a rule but sometimes the clumsy just pours out in waves. Luckily, Audrey and Kevin were visiting and had decided to go to church with me. I was carrying Penny, the diaper bag, trying to lock the door and step into the garage all at the same time. While wearing 3 inch heels. Can you see where I'm going with this? A small stumble on the door frame and down I went, feeling the snap and crackle in my right foot as I fell, not being able to brace myself lest I drop the baby onto concrete. Again, luckily, Penny wasn't hurt and after a quick comforting hug from Audrey she stopped crying. But there I was, flat on my back in the doorway, dress hiked up above my knees, trying to remain calm. Hysterics never help in these situations. So I breathed and tried to move. That was a no-go. So the three adults made a game plan. Jason was at work so we would call him and tell him to meet us at the hospital. Audrey would drive and Kevin would take the rental car and follow behind.

The plan was the easy part. It was getting into the car that made me want to throw up. Luckily times three, Kevin was there to literally pick me up when I was down. A bracing arm and some hopping (again in 3 inch heels) and we were on our way to the ER. A special thank you hug has to go out to my sister-in-law Audrey who kept me conscious and barf-free by joining me in singing The Battle Hymn of the Republic at full throttle. It worked, even though we couldn't remember all of the words.

Jason was there at the hospital when we pulled up and I don't know that I've ever been so happy to see him. The best part was he had come straight from work and was still in his police uniform. As we moved about to various rooms of the hospital he stayed by my bedside looking like an armed guard. Which hospital workers actually thought he was, even going so far as to ask me what I'd done. Then they noticed us holding hands. No, I'm not the most modestly dressed hooker in Utah. Just a clumsy housewife who shouldn't be allowed to wear heels.

X-rays, pain meds and an orthopedic surgeon later, I'm on the road to recovery. No surgery will be needed. It's a bad sprain and a small fracture from where the tendons pulled off a piece of bone. Yeah. Gross. Some sessions of physical therapy and an enormous walking boot (seriously, this thing weighs more than the cat!) should have me right as rain by Thanksgiving. I hope. And now I'm thinking I need to ask Santa for some ballet flats for Christmas.