Take a Deetour

"I write to find out what I think." - Joan Didion

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

I Think It's Broken

I didn't want to say anything, but !@£$%^&*%!! my left foot hurts like !@£$%^&*&^%$£@! Pending an actual X-ray (and we all know my track record), I, in typical hypochondriac fashion, maintain that I may have fractured my left fifth distal metatarcel. And the reason I am so well-acquainted with said medical jargon is...

10 years (Lud!!!! TEN YEARS?!) ago, I fractured my RIGHT fifth distal metatarcel whilst pretending I was in Fame. Actually, I was taking my first dance class at the Northern School of Contemporary Dance, where the students REALLY danced through the hallways wearing tights and legwarmers! Feeling very impressed and very Fame indeed, I threw myself passionately into barefoot dancing to the beat of live African drums.

Halfway through corner-to-corner turns and leaps, Miss Twinkle-toes makes one ferociously enthusiastic jump and lands awkwardly, on the side of her twisted right foot. Sickening crack notwithstanding, she carried on leaping heroically till the pain threatened to eat her brain. "I think it's broken!" She wailed plaintively. Of course, none of her friends believed her. Of course, the rest is just fractured history.

A trip to the A&E next morning, when the foot in question had swelled up to twice its original size & developed a lovely deep purple hue, confirmed the Drama Queen's worst fears. She spent the next 6 weeks in a fibreglass cast, greatly inconvenienced, yet secretly revelling in all the attention the crutches and cast brought her.

Now I'm not saying I want attention now (though SOME WOULD BE NICE!), but my current foot woes smell like the the putrid past. Why won't anyone believe me? I'm in pain, dammit! And ponstan just doesn't cut it. I want an X-ray, and the tender ministrations of a hunky doctor, please.

Anyhow, this time, dancing was involved too. Occupational hazard, I guess. Allow me to set the scene:
  • 2 kancheong girls on stage bump into each other while rushing to put away props and get back onstage to do next scene.
  • In the ensuing debacle, one pointy stiletto heel of one girl comes crushing down on the top of other girl's left foot.
  • Showbiz protocol darling... Just grin and keep shimmying through the grinding pain.
  • Get home 9 hours later, limping like a gangsta rapper.
  • Go to sleep with foot elevated.
  • Wake up with swollen purple foot.
  • Call doctor dad.
  • Painkillers prescribed.
  • Spend all of yesterday in bed watching crappy cable.
  • Write miserable, sorry-for-self post on blog.

  • Tomorrow, I'll get out of bed. Tomorrow I'll go get an X-ray. Tomorrow I'll find someone who'll offer me tea and sympathy.

    2 humps in my highway:

    At 7:18 am, Blogger wind-up-bird said...

    Oh sweetest of lords! I hope your foot feels better. I fell over at a very public event earlier this year (ha, my doctor asked me "was alochol involved?" and I said, "if you mean the can of beer I, er, fell over, then yes") and managed to get a compression fracture of a very funny-sounding bone. But before I went in to get xrays etc. everyone thought I was just making it up. My roommate even punched my arm a few times. .So you have my sympathy!!!

    At 11:51 pm, Blogger Deetourguide said...

    Awww, shucks, thanks! Sympathy accepted with open arms and sent back for your, uh, accident. Aren't roomies simply the best?! Hope you're all healed up!


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