“My stomach is a little queasy, and I’m not feeling so great,” he complained, “Would you run down to the store and get me some Gatorade?”
I was tired, but I knew getting out of the house for a few minutes would do me some good, so I put on my coat, grabbed my purse, and headed out.
Somehow I missed the last step – not hard to do, considering the light bulbs at both the top and the bottom of the stairs are both burnt out – and landed on the side of my right foot, which rolled, and I lost my balance.
So I’m sitting at the bottom of the stairs, and my foot is throbbing, and I can’t get up because every time I try and put weight on my foot, the pain becomes unbearable. I call to one of my kids, and ask them to get their dad to come help me, and my ill husband comes to my rescue.
He helps me to the bed, and I sit back and put my injured foot up. It’s a little swollen and extremely painful. He gets me some Motrin and tells me to take it, and has out oldest son go get me some ice. After a minute, the ice is too painful, so I kick it off. After a half an hour, the pain is still pretty bad, so he gets me one of the Norco I had left over from a procedure I had a couple months back. About a half an hour later, the pain has eased. I have to pee, so I get up and can’t put any weight on my foot, so I hobble to the bathroom in the most unflattering manner, then hop back to bed, and manage to sleep the night through.
The following morning, I still couldn’t put any weight on my foot, so my husband took me to the doctor and we got an X-ray.