Unexpected Life Adventures: The Ankle
A few weeks ago I spent the night at Eliza's house. When leaving the following morning, I manage to catch my foot in a divot in the ground and twisted it. I walked it off and assumed I was fine, until a couple of days later when it started to hurt. I thought nothing of it, as I don't believe in being injured, until it started to bother me and I was vaguely limping. Mayhaps I ought to baby this, thought I, so I did.
Within a day or two it started feeling better, so I resumed life as usual. In this particular instance, life as usual meant Quidditch! It only took three years, but my chums and I finally organized another game (or rather we finally held another game--we organized one two or so years ago, but it fell through due to reasons that still make me annoyed when I think about them). We couldn't get access to a chapel, so we held our wizard sporting event in the gym of my school.
We had a grand ol' time runnin around in capes, tossing quaffles and bludgers and speaking in poor British accents, and I proved that although I tend to despise anything that makes me sweat, once I get going, I really get into it. Surprised a few friends who mistakenly thought I was mild.
Halfway through, my upper leg started hurting, which my medical professional (Jonelle) informed me was my body compensating for me favoring my apparently-still-injured leg. I decided it was a good time to retire from the Quidditch Pitch, so I resumed my post as Lee Jordan and did an excellent job commentating.
The next day I was sore all over from my workout, and my foot hurt worse than it previously had. Lovely. I borrowed an ace bandage from Eliza and kept my foot wrapped and elevated most of the week (quite the feat, given that I teach elementary school). I was limping so bad on Tuesday my Mako asked why I was "walking like this" and imitated my lopsided gait. Luckily the kids were good sports about it and worked around my immobility.
I was starting to feel better by the end of the week, so I lessened the amount of time my foot was wrapped and made the mistake of putting too much weight on it.
Thursday evening, post-math class, I was standing in my bedroom contemplating life, the universe, and everything, when I rolled my ankle. I wasn't even moving--I was standing completely still! My ankle ballooned up and demanded it be wrapped and propped up. So much for my plans to continue unpacking.
My actual medical professional (Momma) agreed with me that I didn't need to go to the doctor's office, merely needing to baby my pathetic appendage, which I've been rather ardent about doing. Babying a foot is rather annoying. It's the one part of your body you use all the time. Baby an arm? No problem--strap it down and ignore it. Baby a foot? HAH. As if. You need it to move anywhere.
The most annoying part about this is it's inhibiting unpacking. I moved into my new place (which I love!) on September 1 (first day of term at Hogwarts!), but I've been nonstop busy since. I made sure to unpack everything I needed that first day because I knew I wouldn't have time later. I still don't have time, but I have a few minutes here and there where I could probably do something, but I shouldn't be moving my boxes (in fact, I moved my couches last weekend, which turned out to be a bad idea because 1) spiders and 2) ow foot), so I don't.
And no, I really don't have time. Here, look at my schedule and understand why.
Monday: School until 4, Eliza time, FHE, Avatar night. I don't get home until 10:45 at night or later.
Tuesday: School, Numbers and Operations math class (which I love).
Wednesday: School, Eliza time, game night.
Thursday: School, Geometry and Measurement class (which I love less. I hate geometry.)
Weekends since moving in: Comic con, football games, Quidditch, stake conference, movie night, thesis burning, shopping with the sister...
I lived in my apartment for two weeks before I ate a meal here (side note: I don't even have a table! Or chairs. I finally had to acquire two on long-term loan from Eliza), and then it was a frozen pot pie I nuked in the microwave, which I shoved down my gullet before running out the door.
The moral of this story is I'm super busy, which I hate, although I love everything I'm doing, and my foot is making it even more difficult to fully move in. But I'm content, both in work and in home life, which I haven't been in a really long time, so I'll take a few extra boxes lying around in exchange for a happier life.
My foot is slowly getting better. I'll defeat this yet, and then I'll fully move in, and then I'll find an excuse to call someone and reenact that scene from The Incredibles.
And some day I'll find a better way to end an entry.
End.
Within a day or two it started feeling better, so I resumed life as usual. In this particular instance, life as usual meant Quidditch! It only took three years, but my chums and I finally organized another game (or rather we finally held another game--we organized one two or so years ago, but it fell through due to reasons that still make me annoyed when I think about them). We couldn't get access to a chapel, so we held our wizard sporting event in the gym of my school.
We had a grand ol' time runnin around in capes, tossing quaffles and bludgers and speaking in poor British accents, and I proved that although I tend to despise anything that makes me sweat, once I get going, I really get into it. Surprised a few friends who mistakenly thought I was mild.
Halfway through, my upper leg started hurting, which my medical professional (Jonelle) informed me was my body compensating for me favoring my apparently-still-injured leg. I decided it was a good time to retire from the Quidditch Pitch, so I resumed my post as Lee Jordan and did an excellent job commentating.
The next day I was sore all over from my workout, and my foot hurt worse than it previously had. Lovely. I borrowed an ace bandage from Eliza and kept my foot wrapped and elevated most of the week (quite the feat, given that I teach elementary school). I was limping so bad on Tuesday my Mako asked why I was "walking like this" and imitated my lopsided gait. Luckily the kids were good sports about it and worked around my immobility.
I was starting to feel better by the end of the week, so I lessened the amount of time my foot was wrapped and made the mistake of putting too much weight on it.
Thursday evening, post-math class, I was standing in my bedroom contemplating life, the universe, and everything, when I rolled my ankle. I wasn't even moving--I was standing completely still! My ankle ballooned up and demanded it be wrapped and propped up. So much for my plans to continue unpacking.
My actual medical professional (Momma) agreed with me that I didn't need to go to the doctor's office, merely needing to baby my pathetic appendage, which I've been rather ardent about doing. Babying a foot is rather annoying. It's the one part of your body you use all the time. Baby an arm? No problem--strap it down and ignore it. Baby a foot? HAH. As if. You need it to move anywhere.
The most annoying part about this is it's inhibiting unpacking. I moved into my new place (which I love!) on September 1 (first day of term at Hogwarts!), but I've been nonstop busy since. I made sure to unpack everything I needed that first day because I knew I wouldn't have time later. I still don't have time, but I have a few minutes here and there where I could probably do something, but I shouldn't be moving my boxes (in fact, I moved my couches last weekend, which turned out to be a bad idea because 1) spiders and 2) ow foot), so I don't.
And no, I really don't have time. Here, look at my schedule and understand why.
Monday: School until 4, Eliza time, FHE, Avatar night. I don't get home until 10:45 at night or later.
Tuesday: School, Numbers and Operations math class (which I love).
Wednesday: School, Eliza time, game night.
Thursday: School, Geometry and Measurement class (which I love less. I hate geometry.)
Weekends since moving in: Comic con, football games, Quidditch, stake conference, movie night, thesis burning, shopping with the sister...
I lived in my apartment for two weeks before I ate a meal here (side note: I don't even have a table! Or chairs. I finally had to acquire two on long-term loan from Eliza), and then it was a frozen pot pie I nuked in the microwave, which I shoved down my gullet before running out the door.
The moral of this story is I'm super busy, which I hate, although I love everything I'm doing, and my foot is making it even more difficult to fully move in. But I'm content, both in work and in home life, which I haven't been in a really long time, so I'll take a few extra boxes lying around in exchange for a happier life.
My foot is slowly getting better. I'll defeat this yet, and then I'll fully move in, and then I'll find an excuse to call someone and reenact that scene from The Incredibles.
And some day I'll find a better way to end an entry.
End.