Tag Archives: ankle

Oops, I did it again

Remember Das Boot? I do.

Guess what? I am presently in another orthopedic boot, and I am miserable.

boot

Nope, I didn’t re injure the ankle I broke. It’s the other foot. Continue reading

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The Saga Continues

My ankle saga. Although I’ll surely blog about The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn Part 2 soon eventually.

The original orthopedist referred me to a surgeon which was a bummer after two months in Das Boot. Incidentally, the new doctor specializes in dancers and the unique injuries they face. Including using stage names apparently.

ankle form 20121026_093331

I haven’t danced in a long time but it’s cool to see a doctor who understands what it’s like.

He didn’t rush me into surgery. Instead he has given me cortisone injections each of the two times he has seen me. And prescribed more physical therapy.

My reaction was something like @#$#^#$%#@#. As you might imagine six months post-fracture.

Yeah.

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Five things I want to do in DC

In two weeks, I will spend seven nights in Washington, DC, where I lived for ten years, for a combination of business and pleasure. These are some of the things on my to do list.

1. Revisit old favorite hangouts like Proof and Estadio and Dino and Chinatown Coffee Company and The Passenger and Taylor Gourmet and Palena and…wait. How many days do I have?

2. Check out Union Market especially Righteous Cheese and Salt & Sundry. How cool to see these female entrepreneurs pursue their dreams!

Photo via Righteous Cheese

Photo via Righteous Cheese

3. Meet some of the fine people I have connected with via Twitter including @floridagirlindc, @washingtina, @jigolden and more! I also very much need quality time with @candacearm.

4. Attend my friend’s baby shower. Yep, this friend whose bachelorette weekend we celebrated in Miami last January and whose wedding I posted about. She done got knocked up.

5. Jog around the monuments. Kidding. I didn’t do that when I lived in DC. Why would I do that now after all of this?

DC people, what am I missing? If one of your favorites opened in the year since I left, I’d love it if you told me about it in the comments.

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  • Five things I’m jealous of right now

I’m never gonna dance again

To set the scene, have this song playing while you read my sad post.

The date was May 31. I broke my ankle. It was also the day when I last wore anything resembling cute shoes.

Since then, I have sported Das Boot, two different pairs of Chucks, one bright pink pair of Pumas and a sorry-looking pair of Bandolino flats which are barely hanging on.

Every few days, I duck into my closet and pull out shoes to try on. I do so hoping that my ankle will tolerate some stylistic improvement. I have at least one hundred pairs of shoes and boots, all of which stare at me every morning as I get ready for work.

At this point, even my comfy but vaguely geriatric Campers would be an upgrade.

“FINE,” I said to myself, “I’ll just buy awesome flats to get me through to boot season!”

But this is what 6PM.com offered me:

When I’m done sobbing and feeling mad, I plan to ask @possessionista for ideas.

I was broken

Actually I am broken.* My ankle is. I’m stuck in Das Boot for at least four more weeks. It could be longer and surgery isn’t out of the question.

I am giving myself a little time to sulk about the fact that I’ll effectively be hobbled all summer. And then I will move on.

First though, can I be ticked about the doctor who first examined me and said that my ankle wasn’t so swollen? He, Dr. Janitor we’ll call him, gave me an air cast (that didn’t properly immobilize me) before sending me on my way. I am tempted to mail him a copy of my MRI report.

Hmph. Fortunately the care I have received at my real doctor’s office has been terrific if not exactly punctual.

Know what’s funny though? I couldn’t even tell you which bone is fractured. This is involved. Also this and this. There’s more but if you have read thus far, you obviously love me more than my mother.

Speaking of Mom, if there’s a bright spot in all of this, it is that my wobbly bits may get a partial pass when we see each other at the beach soon.

“Injured! Pitiful! Unable to exercise! Mother me, Mommy!”

 

If that doesn’t work, I’ll just hide and drink a lot. Thanks in advance for the well wishes.

*In case you clicked my link hoping to watch Kristen Stewart star in Marcus Foster’s video for “I Was Broken” here it is: