step on a crack, break your mama's back
one half of my ankle went one way and one went the other
and Jill came tumbling after
and down I fell, catching myself nicely.
I lay on the ground for a while, in too much pain to move, wondering if my ankle was broken, kind of hoping no one would see me, kind of hoping someone would help me but knowing that's not the way things really work in London. Depending on the kindness of strangers here just isn't done.
I finally sat up, tried to stop hyperventilating (as I felt like I was going to throw up), then slowly got to my feet. My ankle could bear weight; good. That meant it wasn't broken.
I took one step, holding on to the wall next to me. I took a second.
I sat down. I called Mark to ask him to come help me. He wasn't around.
I slowly started down the street, at an eighth a normal person's pace. It was like being in tree-time; the world was rushing around me, people going back and forth, passing me on both sides, while I continued hobbling.
About ten minutes later Mark called me back and ran to where I'd made it and helped me home. I was trying to tell him what happened and make jokes about it but I kept stuttering and was having a hard time talking.
We made it in the door. I made it to the couch and burst into tears. After a while, I called wechsler and ask him to pick through his first aid training and tell me what the right thing was for me to do. RICE: something about rest, ice, compress, elevate. I iced and elevated then went to bed after about forty minutes.
Is that a golfball in your sock, or are you ... walking on a twisted ankle?
It's the next day. I'm working from home. I'm in sweats and I've turned the heater on. I have made some pear oolong from Silk Roads Tea. This is going to be a very quiet day. I hurt far too much to go to the doctor, especially given I can barely make it across the living room. Hopefully elevation and staying off this thing will do the trick.