Friday, January 13, 2017

Ankle biter

I went to the doc to sign up for general massive body invasion types of testing, probing at both ends, and squashing maintenance that one is supposed to routinely do, that I've managed to put off, or avoid, for a decade or two—all this, before my medical coverage dries up under the new political regime.

She asked if there was anything else. So I showed her my ankle that I did a right angle stair-stand on mid-Dec., (trying to protect my knee), she slapped a bandage on, and said keep it elevated above your heart! I giggled at the thought of driving home with my ankle elevated above my heart... I drive a clutch.

And here I thought it was healing nicely. I did all the RICE stuff religiously for two weeks (Rest, Ice, Compression and Elevation ) but apparently it takes longer than a few weeks to heal soft tissue danage. I thought you were supposed to use a sprained body part ASAP... I thought I WAS healed, now I'm merely unheeled. I guess that's better than being unhinged. It only hurts vaguely. Tingly, more than anything else. I chalked it up to chatty veins.

In the GoDays, I would've used horse liniment... I lean toward the stiff (quivering) upper lip thing. I was the kid that broke her arm and never said a word because I was afraid to tell my granny. Donkey tossed me into a fence. A ditch. Many trees. 

And here I've been stomping around all over town with it, gimping like a pirate, yelling ARRRR, ARRR. And craving plunder, booty, and Advil. But it throbs like a gnarly session with an ankle-biter. Wine is an excellent anti-inflamatory agent. Maybe I should switch to rum? I guess I should be grateful that I got off so light as several other friends are sporting full ankle boots from their holiday misadventures with stairs and trampolines.

The doc didn't like my fake clogs either... She told me to wear proper shoes, with laces— not flip-flops either. Apparently because you curl your toes up to walk, that puts strain on the ankles. But I've a fat ankle with a bandage that won't fit into a shoe. And the boots with the split soles that made me fall in the first place, are the only shoes I can slip on. Sigh. When I injured my knee, I couldn't get down there to even put a shoe on, let alone, tie it, so I wore flip-flops exclusively.

For the record, I hate shoes. I have narrow heels, and not quite so narrow fronts. Short toes, long arch, so I hate anything touching my arch. My grannie made me go barefoot in summer, and pick up marbles with my toes so I wouldn't get bunions. I have prehensile toes with fine motor skills.

I guess going barefoot's out of the question mid-winter. Maybe I should get some lace up boots. I'm thinking my flamenco boots with their hobnails won't work. I'll just skid on those nails and fall down again. Time to buy new shoes. Or maybe an irate chihuahua.

If the shoe fits....

Stairways to hell

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