Soooo, I did a stupid thing on Friday. At GonzO’s hurricane party I hopped down from a height of about 3′ and rolled my right foot under me, effectively spraining it mildly.
I was standing on the head of DeJockamo’s cousin (currently “on loan” and living happily in GonzO’s yard) and peering over his fence and into the empty lot next door to see what Cleo and Puck were barking at. Cleo, a pug/Jack Russell terrier mix, had succumbed to her instincts and efficiently dispatched a rat to its heavenly host earlier in the day. I was attempting to see if there was another one — or several for that matter — wandering around and making the dogs go batshit loco.
Finding nothing of interest, I hopped off the concrete idol. Whilst in mid-fall I noticed that where I once had a clear landing zone, I now had a fuzzy face with an adorable under-bite, and a pair of soft brown eyes staring up at me. Cleo had maneuvered herself directly under me, finding me suddenly more interesting than the non-existent rats. I shifted my weight and adjusted my feet so I wouldn’t squish her, and I came down hard with most of my weight on my right foot.
I felt it roll on the uneven grass, followed by a sharp pain in my ankle — but no pop or crack sound. I immediately made my way to somewhere I could stand and support myself, and evaluated what damage I had done. My ankle hurt like hell, but I could bear putting my weight on it, and the initial pain was starting to dull (thank you endorphins!). After ten minutes there was no noticeable swelling and I could walk, albeit favoring my non-injured foot. Ten minutes later I had a small egg of swelling on my outside ankle, and a tiny bit on the front of the foot. I was reasonably sure I hadn’t broken anything as I could support my weight, and my foot/ankle didn’t swell up like a ham attached to the end of my leg. I attribute this to the fact that I was wearing my tactical boots when it happened, and the tight lacing and high sides are designed to minimize foot and ankle trauma.
I iced the foot for an hour afterward, and was able to hobble around with my weight partially on it. I was even able to drive with surprisingly little difficulty, to pick up Sweets from class and to get us home. Walking was much easier and less painful after driving… using the foot to operate the pedals seemed to have warmed the ankle up a bit and loosened up the stiffness. When I lay down for bed, there was only minor swelling and no bruises to be seen. I had a nice little elastic ankle brace of Sweet’s to use to keep compression on it.
Waking up Saturday, I had shockingly little pain in the ankle — just tenderness and stiffness. My range of motion had increased, and lo and behold, the bruise had finally decided to show. It spread, over the course of the weekend, from my heel all along the side of my foot to the arch, and a lovely bruise also formed under the outside of my foot as well. I kept it elevated and iced on-and-off all weekend, and have been able to walk normally for the most part. The bruises are starting to fade, but here they are for what it’s worth:
After a day of work yesterday, and a little shopping afterward, I’m finding my ankle to be a little sore — it’s the most walking I’ve done since banging it up on Friday. Also, the swelling is going down, so that’s contributing to it a bit too. Ibuprofen is my friend!
So, it was a damned stupid thing to do, but it could have been worse. I now have a reminder for the next month or so of my own idiocy… like I don’t have enough reminders already.
How was this stupid? Sounds like the dog’s fault to me.
What an anti-climatic story! I was expecting a tale of hours in the ER and a surly x-tech and an indifferent doctor! Sigh… Nope. Just a little bruising. Damn you.
No ER horror stories — I self diagnosed, somewhat correctly this time. I was waiting to see how the ankle was doing the next day, and being an employee of the hospital I would be going to, I knew we were on high alert for possible hurricane fallout from Houston Friday night, and I wasn’t going to wade into that willingly.
And as far as being the dog’s fault… well, it is GonzO’s dog, and you can’t blame a small animal for being underfoot any more than you can blame GonzO for being underfoot. The dog’s under-bite is cuter, though.
Oh man that brings back memories. Many years ago… like maybe 20, I did a similar thing. Opening my back screen door the handle caught on my shirt sleeve and when i angrily pulled free i found myself stepping off the top step 3 feet off the ground. As my right foot landed it was at an odd angle and rolled to the outer side jack-knifing my foot. I wasn’t wearing such well designed footwear as you and did hear the pop. I never went down; in retrospect that would have been better than trying to remain in a dignified upright position. Well the ligaments and tendons tore from the ankle knob and sliced through the small muscles in the outer foot. I had a lot of swelling and the blood pooled from mid shin to my toenails covering the top of the foot in an inch high pocket of blood that shook like Jello when I walked. It took years for the muscles to recover enough and strengthen enough to compensate for the missing ligaments and torn tendons. You were very lucky to be wearing your boots that saved you from a long rehab. You know the old saying, “Chance favors the prepared mind.” Or foot in this case.
Well chance favored the foot, because the mind wasn’t prepared, that’s for damn sure. Oh well, there goes my illustrious dancing career.