… I did it AGAIN.
Missed the bottom step while carrying a laundry basket, and fell to the ground in a heap of helpless Kari. The last two times I did it, I broke bones in my feet… I haven’t gone for an x-ray this time yet, but I REFUSE to believe anything is broken.
The first time, back in the summer of 2000, I was at home in Windsor. I’ve run up and down the twelve steps in my dad’s house a million times, but that time, with laundry basket in hand, I missed the very last step and came down hard on my right foot. My dad told me to walk it off. Unfortunately, I couldn’t walk. I went to the clinic, had some x-rays done, and they found three fractured metatarsals. I was in a removable (thank god) cast for three months. Ick.
The second time, a year later, I was living in London. The stairs into the basement were dark and I miscounted the steps. I landed on my left foot this time… drove myself to the emergency room, took a look at the x-ray myself and saw the two cracked bones, and got out the old cast. Luckily, it was interchangeable between the right and left foot. Double ick.
Now, just last night, I was walking down the steps outside our building, counting carefully so that next time I went down I’d know exactly how many there actually were, and I missed the last step because it was covered in dead leaves. Dammit! I crumbled, scraped my wrist, twisted my ankle and banged up my knee. I got up immediately, started walking and it seemed fine, but an hour later (when I had to go get the clothes from the dryer), I could hardly walk.
It feels much better today, but it still hurts. I can’t tell if it feels the same as before… I don’t think there’s anything broken though. I fell differently this time- my foot rolled inward, instead of me landing on the ball of my foot. I think it’s just a sprain. I hope. If it’s not considerably better by tomorrow, I’ll have x-rays done.