Put some ice on it . . .

A couple of weeks ago, I (Britney) broke my foot, or actually my left 5th metatarsal or something like that. Many people have asked me, "How did you break your foot?" I'm sorry to say it wasn't doing anything exciting like rollerblading while walking my dog and wearing a bikini, as a friend suggested. It was on a Sunday morning about 10:30 a.m., and I was coming down the stairs outside our apartment with Bailey on her leash. When I got to the bottom and stepped off the last stair, my foot slipped off the side of my flimsy flip flop and rolled over as I fell down. I examined my foot to see if it looked broken, but did not see any bones poking out. The top of my foot was scratched from the concrete, but I was not in pain. Then I started to feel lightheaded, so I laid down on the ground and passed out for a second. When I came to, I climbed back up the stairs with Bailey in tow. Upon reaching our door, I did not have the strength to stand anymore, so I sat down and kicked at the door with my foot. Brad, looking through the peep hole, asked who was there, because he could not see anyone, and I answered. When he opens the door, he sees me lying on the ground with Bailey by my side. By this time my foot had started to hurt and swell. I tell him that I think it may be broken, so we head for the Baptist ER, although he thinks it is "just a sprain" and I should "put some ice on it." Three hours and $800.00 later, it is confirmed by the nurse practitioner that it is indeed broken. I rejoiced for a moment in my correctness, until I realized what this would mean. NO SHOWERS, NO WALKING, NO SEX--acutally that last one isn't exactly true. The ortho tech who put my splint on wasn't so optimistic either. She informed us that we would have to cut my jeans off in order to get them off my body, because they wouldn't fit over the splint. At this point Brad completely freaks out and tells her how expensive they were. To avoid the cutting off of the jeans, I have to leave the ER in a hospital gown. So I got a pair of crutches and, after a 5 second orientation to them, we were on our way out the door. Two days later, I got a real cast, which I let my day treatment students "sign", even though it looks more like scribbles. Since the crutches hurt my arms and hands so badly, my mom rented a "roll-a-bout" for me, which is sort of like a combination of a wheelchair and scooter. I use it at work mostly, and my kids love it. I will be sure to include some pictures later on, because I look pretty silly on it. But it does make my life so much easier. I must say, I am the luckiest wife in the whole world. Brad has been doing everything around the house: cooking, cleaning, walking Bailey, feeding Bailey, bathing Bailey, watering my plants, and taking my scooter down to my car each morning. And he hasn't complained that much. He lets me sit on the couch with my foot up watching season 1 of LOST. I will go back to the doctor on Friday for more x-rays and a new cast, or hopefully a boot that I can walk in. I am learning to appreciate the little things in life, like washing my hair, shaving my legs, and going to Wal-mart, things I don't get to do much of now. I also have a new-found appreciation for handicap accessible facilities. In closing, I can't wait to get this stupid thing off my leg so that I can go camping, have a garage sale, and most of all, shave my lower left leg.