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Wednesday, February 20, 2013

'the sprain'

It is something you hope never happens when you are pregnant: falling down the steps.

But yes, my clumsy pregnant self slipped on our basement steps last night while going down to get my suitcase for my trip to visit my sister in Montana.

I was actually stepping very cautiously (as I was helping Cormac walk down as well) and I was holding onto the railing on my right side.

So I have no idea what caused me to slip, but down I went, in a furious tumble.

About halfway down I felt my right foot turn inward with a painful crunch.  When I finally landed for good, my palms were propping me up and my legs contorted behind me, still on the lower steps.

My first thought went to my 19-month-old, who was howling above me.  Luckily, he had only gone down a couple steps and was already on his feet, albeit in tears, staring down at me.  I reassured him, trying to be calm and comforting, that "Mama is okay, mama is okay!"

I moved myself into a sitting position as gingerly as I could, taking stock of my extremities.  Arms - fine.  Hands - scratched up but fine.  Legs - moveable.  Feet - ow.  The one that got twisted felt extremely wrong.  It throbbed.  It shook strangely.  Pains shot violently through it.  I touched it to the floor and knew I couldn't walk on it.

Then, when I knew there were no bones jutting out of my body or bleeding, I checked out my pregnant belly, which seemed surprisingly unscathed.

I was able to pull myself up to a stand, grab the railing, and hop painfully up the basement steps.    All the while, wincing through the pain, I tried to smile and assure Cormac that all was well...mama was just playing a fun game, hopping like a kangaroo.

The kid is no fool.  He followed me up the steps and continued to howl, not buying my story one bit.

I couldn't pick him up like he wanted {insert extreme mama guilt here} so I hobbled slowly around the side of the house (we have no interior basement entrance as of right now) and kept trying to cheerily convince him to come with me.  Finally, he followed me to the front door and came inside, where I contemplated calling an ambulance, but called Hubby instead.  It was then that I allowed myself to shed tears due to the pain.  He came home immediately, and I felt baby move in my belly in his/her normal fashion...which made me feel much better.

Long story short - a sprained foot.  My first sprain or or any type of injury requiring me to wrap up a body part and use crutches.  Only took thirty-one years!

So here I am, less than 24 hours later, on my way to visit my sister in Montana.  Very glad nothing worse happened and I am still able to make the trip.  I told my sister I will be hopping around like Lisa Turtle on Saved by the Bell, dancing 'The Sprain.'

If you don't remember this, you need to.  Here is the clip so we can wax nostalgic together...




Surprisingly, I am having a lovely time in the airport, getting wheeled around by sweet and chipper airport personnel, and having person after person offer to carry things for me.  I am shocked no one has followed me into the bathroom stall to help with that, too!!!

This all restores my faith in humanity.  

My faith in my own equilibrium is completely shot, though.
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