Why can't I ever have any good injury stories from my shenanigans? Six weeks ago, I got a second degree burn on my right ankle. How in the hell does one manage that? Well, I was getting over a nasty stomach bug. I had been off of work since Wednesday. I finally stopped vomiting on Friday. Saturday night, the man took me out to breakfast for dinner. By Sunday, I was eating even more, but decided to play it safe with soup.
I turned from the stove for just a moment and suddenly the soup was rolling in a boil. I turned off the stove and said to myself, "I don't want to get burned. I am going to put this soup into this large plastic measuring cup with a handle so that it doesn't spill." I had done that several times before. I carry the soup upstairs and sit cross-legged in front of the laptop because I was doing some article research. Somehow the damn soup spilled onto my ankle, anyway. I pulled off the sock while simultaneously somehow moving the laptop out of the way and securing the soup so that it didn't pool in my bed where I was sitting. I went into the bathroom to run my foot under cold water in the tub. The skin came right off. I haven't felt that kind of pain in a long time. After much deliberation and discussion with friends in the medical field, I gave in to going to the ER to have it checked out. I made the man drive me, even though he was still annoyed with me over a stupid disagreement the night before.
Sure enough, second degree burn. Here is some special cream for it. Go ahead and walk on it. Don't worry about skipping work - you will be just fine. Just take Advil for the pain.
HA. I couldn't sleep with just Advil and got something better a couple of days later. Even with that, I was still only averaging about four hours of sleep from the shooting pain in my ankle.
Fast forward a week or two. It's picture make-up day at school. I didn't get it done the first time around because I was white with pain and had raccoon eyes from the lack of sleep. I get the hot Keurig water for my oatmeal and my double cup of coffee. The person coordinating wants me to go get my picture done right then, but my kids are about to walk in the door. I've gotta go. I spin around and hit the door frame. The hot water goes all down my sleeve, onto my hand. Voila. First degree burn on my left hand. The fun part was, it was like stirpes because I was wearing a ribbed sweater. No medical trip this time. A friend who is a nurse, who is married to a doctor, said because I had just been in the ER for a burn, I already knew what to do and had the cream on hand.
Move forward about another week. My hands were really dry and cracking close to my nails. The index finger on my left hand (with the burn) was looking kind of red, but it usually does when it is this dry. Throughout the night, though, it hurt so much at times that it would wake me up. By morning, it was so swollen, I couldn't even bend it. Probable staph infection. Hello, antibiotics. At least I was able to use my Snoopy bandaids that the man's mom had gotten me for Christmas.
That healed over February Break, though it still looks a little sketchy under the nail. Everything seems fine. I get through the Mama Drama (see the story on the Alzheimer's blog). The kids at work are finally in a learning state of mind. The weather is quickly getting warmer and nicer (like 70 and sunny), which is uncharacteristic for us at this time of year. And then....
It's Tuesday. Half of my class is in the Atrium room. My assistant goes to get them, because it is the end of the morning and time for them to either go home or go to lunch. I collect the morning kids' folders and my left foot finds a wet spot on the floor. My left leg goes straight out. I fall straight down, but only my right leg properly buckles under me. I hear "Snap, Crackle and Pop" like Rice Krispies the whole way down. I realize I can't move.
My kids are awesome and immediately mobilized. Some bring me ice packs. One girl gathers the spilled folders and starts herding the younger kids to circle so that she could dismiss them for me. When my assistant returns, they get her for me, telling her that I had fallen. By this time, I am in tears. A couple of the kids are worried, because they had never seen me cry before. One little boy blamed himself for my fall and kept kissing me on top of my head.
Long story short, a trip to the ER determined that nothing was broken, nor dislocated. I was diagnosed with sprained and pulled joints and muscles. I am supposed to use crutches when moving around, which is almost impossible inside the house. But I can put a little pressure on the left leg. I usually injure the right side, so it is tricky getting used to leading with the right one. And it is already slowly healing. I can almost pull my left leg flush with the right one when limping. And I can sit on chairs and "The Throne" again with much more ease.
The hardest part, I guess, is that the doctor said I have to stay home for the rest of the week. What a pity. It is 70 and sunny here in Upstate NY. Apparently, we even hit 80 yesterday. There is barely a cloud in the sky. The man brought me some easy groceries, so I can load up carrots, Cheerios and Coke into a plastic bag and carry it outside with my laptop bag and an extension cord. I've never had a tan in March before. So, while it isn't the greatest story, at least my shenanigans worked in my favor for once.G