Part 2: The Broken Foot :(
The Broken Foot :(
So Saturday rolls around, and my friend heads to work, and so do I. After work, I work out, and wait for her to get off work and tell me what's the plan for the night. Originally I thought we'd go out to dinner and get some drinks, then go out and hit the clubs to dance. All I wanted to do was wear my new sexy clothes! Instead, she shows up saying that a friend of hers, who I don't know, is having a birthday get together at their house and asked her to come. I'm not really super keen on going to house parties when everyone else knows each other, and I'm the stranger and only know one other person there. Plus, I was kinda ticked because she KNEW that I wanted to go out. Whatever though...I said fine, we can go to the party for a bit, then about midnight go out to the clubs.
So the party was going okay, and was pretty fun. We played beer pong and flip cup, and I howdied a beer versus two other people and whooped their ass! Except right after I howdied the beer, I made the mistake of stepping off the cement porch onto the yard, which happened to be very muddy, so I slipped and face planted and had mud all over one side of my body. I was ticked for several reasons, but mainly because my clothes were way too dirty to clean them up in a sink and then go out to the clubs later. I told Katie that I really just wanted to head home at this point because I was covered in mud. In fact, I was bordering on tears. But somehow she convinced me to stay. So I took off my shoes and set them outside cuz they were muddy, and one of the girls that lived there gave me a pair of jeans to change into. Now it was back to the games.
During a break in the action, I was talking to a girl who knew the kickboxing instructor of the class I was taking, and it turned out that she has been kickboxing for real against people for a while, so I asked her to teach me something new. She told me to demonstrate what I'd already learned. I was punching and kicking the air, and not even getting that into it. Like seriously, just half-assing each move so she knew what I'd learned. But for some unknown fucking reason, on one of the kicks she grabbed my foot that was up in the air. It knocked me off balance because, duh, I wasn't expecting her to do that. Katie saw that I was about to fall over backwards, and reached her hand out. To keep myself from falling, I grabbed onto her hand and hopped back with my left foot to widen my base. When I landed, I felt a twinge of pain in my left foot, but I tried to play it off, thinking that maybe it'd hurt for a second then go away. I didn't admit that I was hurting at all, and even stood there and finished the conversation with the kickboxer girl and her friend. In a minute or so they both walked off, and I grabbed Katie's arm and squeezed it, tears welling up in my eyes, and I said, "I need to get out of here right now. I think I just broke my foot." During that one minute of conversation my foot had started throbbing, and I knew that I had broken it. I just knew. She looked at me, and asked if I was sure, and suggested I try to walk over to the dining room table and sit down. I tried to take one step, and my leg crumpled under me, so I just started hopping.
The birthday girl is actually in nursing school, and she grabbed ice and ibuprofen and I elevated the foot right away. I was no where near drunk enough to not feel pain, so I started to cry a little. Partly from pain and partly because I was scared and pissed. I couldn't wiggle my last few toes or flex my foot at all. At this point, I asked for alcohol, and started chugging it because I wanted to stop feeling.
People who had seen it happen didn't think it had been anything bad enough to cause a break, and everyone was asking Katie, "Is it really that bad? Do you really think she broke it or is she just crying over a rolled ankle?" And Katie said, "No, it's really that bad. She's lifted 150 plus pounds of weight over her head with a severely bulging disc because she wanted to keep competing, so yeah, if she's crying and in pain, it's that bad."
We finally left, and we went to a couple of Walgreens looking for crutches and a boot. They had neither, but we did buy some Advil PM, an ace wrap, and Katie bought me this big cushy hot pink colored ball and a stuffed tiger toy (because tigers are my favorite animal). We pulled up to my apartment, and I proceeded to puke up all the alcohol I had chugged about 45 minutes prior. Then I had to hop up a flight of stairs on one leg...fun. Then I proceeded to puke again in the bathroom, followed by passing out on the bathroom floor. While I was passed out, Katie wrapped up my foot.
The next morning I woke up super early because I was in too much pain to sleep. I started texting the athletic trainer I knew to see if I could borrow some crutches and a boot, and unfortunately, he was out of town with a team, but he put me in touch with some trainers that were in town. The first trainer had some crutches for me, and she looked at my foot and gave me her opinion on the injury. She told me it was highly likely it was a broken 5th metatarsal. Unfortunately, she didn't have a boot I could use. Since this was Sunday, there were no brace places open, so Katie and I tried a few more Walgreen's and a couple of CVS'. Then she suggested we stop by the football training facility. Since their spring game had been the day before, maybe someone would be there. I instantly said, "Oh yeah! I know Steve, one of their trainers, I just don't have his number. Great idea to stop by there!" So we went in because the door was open, but the lights were out and no one was there. As we turned to head back out of the training room, a guy walked in. I didn't know him, but I told him the situation, and since I could name drop, and had been a volunteer intern with the strength and conditioning program, he made a phone call to the head trainer and relayed the story to him. He got the approval to loan me a boot, and luckily they had ONE small just waiting in the supply room! The trainer I had been texting since that morning text me later that afternoon to get my full name, birthdate, and insurance provider info, and to tell me that a guy would call me first thing Monday morning to schedule an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon who works with the teams at my university. I mean, wow! How amazing was this guy!
I got a phone call at 8:00 am sharp the next morning, saying they could fit me in at 9:30. I showed up to the appointment, and while I was sitting there waiting to be seen, I heard a voice say, "That boot looks familiar." I looked up and instantly knew it was the head football trainer that had been called to get approval for loaning me the boot. Soon I went back for an x-ray, followed by meeting with the doctor. And as suggested by the athletic trainer, I had broken my 5th metatarsal. Luckily, the doctor said, the break was in a "good place", and would not require surgery to help it heal. The treatment was 3 weeks no weight bearing and constant boot wearing, except for bathing and icing the foot.
I went back earlier this week for my 3 week follow-up and got x-rays again to make sure it was healing correctly. It was on track and healing well, so the doc gave me the go ahead to gradually start putting weight on the foot while still using the crutches to help bear some of the weight. When I go back in 4 weeks, they're going to do another x-ray and hopefully give me the approval to be 100% done with the crutches (aka Bert and Ernie). However, they said I'll probably have to continue to wear the boot for a few weeks after that to make sure the foot is completely healed and reduce the risk of a re-break.
So because of that one dumb fucking night, and giving in to my friend and going to that stupid birthday party, and not leaving when I first asked to, I broke my foot, and of course, have not been able to go out because I'm on crutches and in a stupid, clunky as hell moon boot. Ugh! And of course, she's graduating and moving, so by the time my foot is healed and I'd actually be able to go out and dance, she'll be gone.
So Saturday rolls around, and my friend heads to work, and so do I. After work, I work out, and wait for her to get off work and tell me what's the plan for the night. Originally I thought we'd go out to dinner and get some drinks, then go out and hit the clubs to dance. All I wanted to do was wear my new sexy clothes! Instead, she shows up saying that a friend of hers, who I don't know, is having a birthday get together at their house and asked her to come. I'm not really super keen on going to house parties when everyone else knows each other, and I'm the stranger and only know one other person there. Plus, I was kinda ticked because she KNEW that I wanted to go out. Whatever though...I said fine, we can go to the party for a bit, then about midnight go out to the clubs.
So the party was going okay, and was pretty fun. We played beer pong and flip cup, and I howdied a beer versus two other people and whooped their ass! Except right after I howdied the beer, I made the mistake of stepping off the cement porch onto the yard, which happened to be very muddy, so I slipped and face planted and had mud all over one side of my body. I was ticked for several reasons, but mainly because my clothes were way too dirty to clean them up in a sink and then go out to the clubs later. I told Katie that I really just wanted to head home at this point because I was covered in mud. In fact, I was bordering on tears. But somehow she convinced me to stay. So I took off my shoes and set them outside cuz they were muddy, and one of the girls that lived there gave me a pair of jeans to change into. Now it was back to the games.
During a break in the action, I was talking to a girl who knew the kickboxing instructor of the class I was taking, and it turned out that she has been kickboxing for real against people for a while, so I asked her to teach me something new. She told me to demonstrate what I'd already learned. I was punching and kicking the air, and not even getting that into it. Like seriously, just half-assing each move so she knew what I'd learned. But for some unknown fucking reason, on one of the kicks she grabbed my foot that was up in the air. It knocked me off balance because, duh, I wasn't expecting her to do that. Katie saw that I was about to fall over backwards, and reached her hand out. To keep myself from falling, I grabbed onto her hand and hopped back with my left foot to widen my base. When I landed, I felt a twinge of pain in my left foot, but I tried to play it off, thinking that maybe it'd hurt for a second then go away. I didn't admit that I was hurting at all, and even stood there and finished the conversation with the kickboxer girl and her friend. In a minute or so they both walked off, and I grabbed Katie's arm and squeezed it, tears welling up in my eyes, and I said, "I need to get out of here right now. I think I just broke my foot." During that one minute of conversation my foot had started throbbing, and I knew that I had broken it. I just knew. She looked at me, and asked if I was sure, and suggested I try to walk over to the dining room table and sit down. I tried to take one step, and my leg crumpled under me, so I just started hopping.
The birthday girl is actually in nursing school, and she grabbed ice and ibuprofen and I elevated the foot right away. I was no where near drunk enough to not feel pain, so I started to cry a little. Partly from pain and partly because I was scared and pissed. I couldn't wiggle my last few toes or flex my foot at all. At this point, I asked for alcohol, and started chugging it because I wanted to stop feeling.
People who had seen it happen didn't think it had been anything bad enough to cause a break, and everyone was asking Katie, "Is it really that bad? Do you really think she broke it or is she just crying over a rolled ankle?" And Katie said, "No, it's really that bad. She's lifted 150 plus pounds of weight over her head with a severely bulging disc because she wanted to keep competing, so yeah, if she's crying and in pain, it's that bad."
We finally left, and we went to a couple of Walgreens looking for crutches and a boot. They had neither, but we did buy some Advil PM, an ace wrap, and Katie bought me this big cushy hot pink colored ball and a stuffed tiger toy (because tigers are my favorite animal). We pulled up to my apartment, and I proceeded to puke up all the alcohol I had chugged about 45 minutes prior. Then I had to hop up a flight of stairs on one leg...fun. Then I proceeded to puke again in the bathroom, followed by passing out on the bathroom floor. While I was passed out, Katie wrapped up my foot.
The next morning I woke up super early because I was in too much pain to sleep. I started texting the athletic trainer I knew to see if I could borrow some crutches and a boot, and unfortunately, he was out of town with a team, but he put me in touch with some trainers that were in town. The first trainer had some crutches for me, and she looked at my foot and gave me her opinion on the injury. She told me it was highly likely it was a broken 5th metatarsal. Unfortunately, she didn't have a boot I could use. Since this was Sunday, there were no brace places open, so Katie and I tried a few more Walgreen's and a couple of CVS'. Then she suggested we stop by the football training facility. Since their spring game had been the day before, maybe someone would be there. I instantly said, "Oh yeah! I know Steve, one of their trainers, I just don't have his number. Great idea to stop by there!" So we went in because the door was open, but the lights were out and no one was there. As we turned to head back out of the training room, a guy walked in. I didn't know him, but I told him the situation, and since I could name drop, and had been a volunteer intern with the strength and conditioning program, he made a phone call to the head trainer and relayed the story to him. He got the approval to loan me a boot, and luckily they had ONE small just waiting in the supply room! The trainer I had been texting since that morning text me later that afternoon to get my full name, birthdate, and insurance provider info, and to tell me that a guy would call me first thing Monday morning to schedule an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon who works with the teams at my university. I mean, wow! How amazing was this guy!
I got a phone call at 8:00 am sharp the next morning, saying they could fit me in at 9:30. I showed up to the appointment, and while I was sitting there waiting to be seen, I heard a voice say, "That boot looks familiar." I looked up and instantly knew it was the head football trainer that had been called to get approval for loaning me the boot. Soon I went back for an x-ray, followed by meeting with the doctor. And as suggested by the athletic trainer, I had broken my 5th metatarsal. Luckily, the doctor said, the break was in a "good place", and would not require surgery to help it heal. The treatment was 3 weeks no weight bearing and constant boot wearing, except for bathing and icing the foot.
I went back earlier this week for my 3 week follow-up and got x-rays again to make sure it was healing correctly. It was on track and healing well, so the doc gave me the go ahead to gradually start putting weight on the foot while still using the crutches to help bear some of the weight. When I go back in 4 weeks, they're going to do another x-ray and hopefully give me the approval to be 100% done with the crutches (aka Bert and Ernie). However, they said I'll probably have to continue to wear the boot for a few weeks after that to make sure the foot is completely healed and reduce the risk of a re-break.
So because of that one dumb fucking night, and giving in to my friend and going to that stupid birthday party, and not leaving when I first asked to, I broke my foot, and of course, have not been able to go out because I'm on crutches and in a stupid, clunky as hell moon boot. Ugh! And of course, she's graduating and moving, so by the time my foot is healed and I'd actually be able to go out and dance, she'll be gone.