BROKEN

That's right, people...the 4th toe (next to the pinky toe) on my left foot is...BROKEN.

That's what I get for skipping out on church right after the sacrament, right?

So we got home from church Sunday (it was just me and the kids because Jason was sick) and I made the kids lunch, and as I was crossing the room from the table toward the couch...

WHAM!!!!!!!!!

I kicked one of the legs of a dining room chair.

I swear, I think I heard the break.

Anyway, WHAM!, and I was down on the floor rolling around and grabbing at my poor lame socked foot as though I was going to die.

You see, I actually have an incredibly high pain tolerance...but a toe? Now THAT'S pain.

So my sweet, sick husband asks me to get up and come see him at the couch so he can take a look, and somewhere between a gasp and a sob I yell, "I can't!"

He comes to me.

He pulls off my sock and tries not to vomit thanks to my unshaven legs...and then looks at my poor toe, bent in entirely the wrong direction and provoking a scream from me when he tries to bend it. So he asks ME to try to bend it. I fight back the scream, but the toe is swelling - badly - and the answer is clear: it's broken.

So my folks come over to hang with the munchkins and it's off to urgent care with my already-sick husband for the next 3 hours (between wait time, wait-in-the-patient-room time, x-ray time, and here-are-your-crutches-so-you-can-go-now time), where my toe is buddy-wrapped to it's - for lack of a better term - buddy, and I'm sent out on a brand new pair of crutches (which have since, I KID YOU NOT, bruised both the palms of my hands and my underarms). "Be sure you make an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon," the doctor tells me as I'm leaving. "That way he can decide if it needs to be set, rebroken and set, or operated on!"

My husband reminds me it's a hairline fracture on the way out the door, God bless him.

So I have an appt for this Thursday to assess the damage with an orthopedist, a big ugly bruise starting at my toe and spreading like a disease, a pair of crutches I'm trying not to use, my mom's automatic-shift car in case I really need to go somewhere, Cory as an excuse for my broken toe since I don't want to take responsibility for my own klutziness (it was, after all, her old dining room chair that did this to me, to thanks a lot, Cory!) (Just kidding, lady...love ya!), and a fabulous friend in Chelsea Stewart (who, ironically, I now visit teach, though she's the one serving me!) who is willing to retrieve my son from kindergarten after school every day this week so I don't have to crutch it on my bruised underarms. God bless her, too.

Also, I have a doctor's not "for work" - Jason accepted it with a smile and an eye roll - that I'm going to try to use this Saturday for Disneyland. Heck, if I have to be hobbled and on crutches 'til the 10th or longer, I might as well take the opportunity to rent a wheelchair and get on rides lickety-split. It's legit, after all. Just take a look at that toe...and that's AFTER two days of being taped to its middle-toe friend and me tossing and turning - CAREFULLY - for two sleepless nights with my foot throbbing.

That orthopedist better deliver some percoset, people, because ibuprofen, tylenol, and naproxin just aren't cutting it. (Not together, by the way...) Who knew how PAINFUL one stupid little toe could be? And it's not supposed to heal for 6 weeks? So much for getting back to the gym...for afternoons with the kids at Disney...for days at the park with friends watching our kids play...wait, I don't have friends with kids to watch play in the park. Don't worry about that one, then. Anyway, my plans for the week are shot. Hope you're doing better than my toe.

More soon. I hope. And I also hope it'll be good news...like, I'm going to be right as rain by Saturday but I can still use the work note for an accessibility pass. Riiiiiiiiight. Anyway, thanks for letting me vent, and...enjoy the pictures?