That’s what my horoscope should have said. It didn’t, it promised instead that life was going to be fabulous and that I should put forth all of my creative energy to good use.
First, I cut my thumb.
Then, I burned the hell out of my middle fingertip on the right.
And then worst of all, happily strolling to my computer from the kitchen with a little bowl of some new to me brand of popcorn- disaster.
I stubbed my toe in a miraculous lack of grace, the pinky toe on my left foot splayed from its neighbor with force to give some perverse kind of bear hug to the carved wooden foot of a wingback chair.
I spent last night in pain and awkward waves of ugly crying. Please tell me that you know what I mean when I say ugly crying.
It is a very specific type of crying. It does not care who you are in front of, how loud it might be, or how attractive you are when doing it.
It was not pretty. It was not quiet. It was not endearing.
I actually had to eat popcorn to stem the ugly shortly after the incident. You probably shouldn’t do that. Eat and cry at the same time, I mean. Maybe it’s what the toe wanted, some kind of strange sacrifice. I can’t really say, but popcorn and the masterchef finale made me feel better until I got up and tried to walk. Or hobble. Whichever.
I did mention waves of ugly crying right? Yeah. Lots.
Eventually, to get away from the ugly, I went to sleep, surely my toes would come to some sort of epiphany in the night and would make peace with the rest of me yeah?
Not so much. The second I put my foot on the floor and stood up, ugly came to visit, stronger and more ugly than the night before. I stood in the kitchen trying really hard to make a cup of coffee…. for ten minutes, crying the entire time when the kidlet found me and hovered nervously, sort of butterflying around my edges and making sympathetic noises.
“I’m really sorry about your toe, Mom.”
He put his arm around me and whispered. “It’s going to be okay.”
So sweet, right???
Within two hours we went off to the E.R. and were blessed because it wasn’t busy. Frankly, I want going to go there on a Friday night and certainly not on Friday the thirteenth. Just no.
The long and short of it.. because the oxycodone is starting to fuddle my brain, is that the toe is very much broken with a spiral fracture. Luckily it is not broken at the joint, rather, it has broken right at the base and has not broken anything in the foot.
I am taped, l have a very fashionable shoe, a pair of crutches and a script for pain. Horse pills, really. Trying to navigate is a nightmare, what took three seconds yesterday now takes fifteen with extremely careful navigation and constant alteration to how I step, because any small flex to my left foot means agony. Hopefully it doesn’t take long to get a little better, I worry about what Monday will mean when fending for myself.
In the meantime, fate has decided that I should watch the Sox play from the couch and not only ask for help but to accept it, and I have a feeling that the meds are going to knock me out within minutes.
I think it’s time to install some horseshoes over the doors.