I am, as some would say, my own worst enemy.
Yesterday, the hummingbird feeders needed to be refilled. So I set about to do that.
One of the feeders hangs out the kitchen window. Requires climbing onto the kitchen counter to reach out the window to get the feeder.
I got the footstool, climbed up, got the feeder down. Stepped down off the counter. Cleaned the feeder, refilled it, and climbed back up on the counter to replace the feeder on its hook.
I've done this manoeuvre at least a gazillion times!
As I went to step down off the counter, (I was stepping backwards with my left leg, which is the way I always do it), somehow, I missed the stool.
My foot caught the edge of the stool, causing it to tip and me to tumble. Badly.
My left knee scraped on the counter as I went down. Hard.
My left foot went one way.
My left knee went another way.
John came running up in a panic. (Ever since my surgery, he has been very vigilant about trying to avoid my falling.)
I was flat out on the floor, in agony, screaming expletives of frustration.
My main concern, of course, was my hip.
I pulled myself up to a sitting position and propped myself against the kitchen drawers.
Dizziness overwhelmed me. I remained propped up like that for several minutes as I cursed about the entire episode, waiting for the room to stop spinning.
I knew right away that my hip was OK. But I also knew that my foot was NOT OK.
When I was finally able to get myself up off the floor, it was evident I couldn't put full pressure on my foot. I hobbled to the sofa and cursed some more. (Yes folks, cursing does help!)
I spent the afternoon icing my foot and wondering if I should go to the ER to have it checked. I truly didn't know what to make of the injury. I could flex my foot, but only barely without severe pain. But I could not move my big toe. At one point, I managed to flex it forward and caused excruciating pain to cut through me.
Because I was able to put some pressure on my foot, I knew that it likely wasn't broken. But I wasn't so sure about my big toe.
After dinner, we went to the ER to have it assessed. (For some reason, the first question from the intake nurse was, "Do you feel safe in your home?" I'm still trying to figure out the reason for that particular question. My answer, of course, was, "Yes, usually. Except when I do silly things like this.")
The doctor guessed that there might be a hairline fracture to the big toe, possibly to the two toes next to it. But the x-ray department doesn't operate on weekends. Plus, they don't do anything for broken toes anyway. I should spend the weekend resting and icing it.
She gave me a requisition to have an x-ray done on Tuesday if I still can't "launch" from my big toe by then. While they don't do anything for it, we need to know if it is in fact broken. But, she warned me that the x-ray department will be very busy on Tuesday, with everyone who comes into ER over the weekend waiting to have x-rays done. So she advised that if I'm even 50% better by then, I should not bother with the x-ray. Fractures don't heal that fast.
So, here I am, facing the long weekend again immobilized.
Icing my foot.
Taking pain meds.
It seems I am forever destined to have my bottom on the damned sofa!
But, you see, my hummingbirds HAVE to be fed!