Yesterday I was walking to the car, stepping down from the curb and over a concrete parking space ‘thing’, and I must’ve planted my foot crooked, because next thing I knew I was falling and my ankle was bent at an unnatural angle. I also banged my shin on the concrete, but that was the worst of my worries. My biggest worry was that I’d be unable to get up, but I did… I’m a klutz, but generally a lucky one.
Being accident prone, I had a ankle bandage at home to put on. My limp is pronounced, but I am still able to carry the baby, and generally hobble around.
When Bunny was a few months old, Paul and I went body surfing at the beach down the block from our old house. It was that day, for the first time, that I realized what a hardship losing the use of an appendage would be with a small child. It was only a theoretical realization—I jammed my wrist as I was tossed by a particularly rough wave. I was left unhurt, but the idea of having to deal with a cast/brace or, even worse, crutches was scary to me as someone who was responsible for carrying another person around much of the time. What would have been a pain in the butt before was suddenly on the list of ‘not worth the risk.’
So, while I am not thrilled to be limping around the house, and don’t enjoy this pain, I am grateful I can still do my job albeit slowly today.
As an aside, Carter was not very patient or understanding as I sat, assessing my boobooedness yesterday. He’s so three! “Mama! Get up! Why are you sitting now? Help me in the car, I need buckles!” Boy oh boy….