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rivkaI fell down the stairs this morning.
I was getting ready to leave for work. I'd eaten breakfast upstairs at my computer, so I had my cereal bowl in one hand and my empty tea mug in the other. I was in my sock feet, getting ready to put my boots on at the door.
As best as I can tell, my right foot slipped out from under me. I twisted to the left, and the toes of my left foot got caught in one of the upright slats of the bannister. I managed to keep from hitting my head, and slid down the stairs on my shoulders. For some reason, I didn't let go of either the bowl or the mug, both of which survived unbroken.
It was terrifying. I was crying and shaking as I got up. I also had an intense burning pain in my toes, which didn't subside the way the pain in my shoulders did. I got my sock off with difficulty, and my toes looked okay - but as time went on, the pain settled into a dull, burning throb - not much of an improvement. So I put my boots on very, very carefully, and Michael fetched one of my canes from the attic, and - after some dithering about whether I should just suck it up and deal, or whether I should be X-rayed - we went off to the ER.
Great service. We were seen fairly quickly, by cheerful, friendly, sympathetic doctors. The triage nurse did a careful assessment of how much pain I was in, and shortly thereafter they brought me a Percocet. The resident agreed that my toes were probably broken, based on how I reacted to the exam, but my X-rays turned out to be perfectly normal. Just a bad sprain. He prescribed ice, rest, and tons of Motrin, and sent me home.
The Percocet is doing wonders for my pain - walking isn't very much fun, but sitting still is just fine. It's also making me feel just a little bit loopy - enough so that I decided not to go to work this afternoon.
I feel like an idiot. A clumsy idiot.
I was getting ready to leave for work. I'd eaten breakfast upstairs at my computer, so I had my cereal bowl in one hand and my empty tea mug in the other. I was in my sock feet, getting ready to put my boots on at the door.
As best as I can tell, my right foot slipped out from under me. I twisted to the left, and the toes of my left foot got caught in one of the upright slats of the bannister. I managed to keep from hitting my head, and slid down the stairs on my shoulders. For some reason, I didn't let go of either the bowl or the mug, both of which survived unbroken.
It was terrifying. I was crying and shaking as I got up. I also had an intense burning pain in my toes, which didn't subside the way the pain in my shoulders did. I got my sock off with difficulty, and my toes looked okay - but as time went on, the pain settled into a dull, burning throb - not much of an improvement. So I put my boots on very, very carefully, and Michael fetched one of my canes from the attic, and - after some dithering about whether I should just suck it up and deal, or whether I should be X-rayed - we went off to the ER.
Great service. We were seen fairly quickly, by cheerful, friendly, sympathetic doctors. The triage nurse did a careful assessment of how much pain I was in, and shortly thereafter they brought me a Percocet. The resident agreed that my toes were probably broken, based on how I reacted to the exam, but my X-rays turned out to be perfectly normal. Just a bad sprain. He prescribed ice, rest, and tons of Motrin, and sent me home.
The Percocet is doing wonders for my pain - walking isn't very much fun, but sitting still is just fine. It's also making me feel just a little bit loopy - enough so that I decided not to go to work this afternoon.
I feel like an idiot. A clumsy idiot.
