We all fall down

So once again my great big horse of a dog managed to physically injure one of us in the house with his overly enthusiastic bull headed self.

Whilst walking to the front porch to let the do out for our afternoon break, my dog Kayne suddenly lurched in front of me.

Thus knocking me sideways causing me to step partially out of my shoe, become tangled in a potted plant, step sideways onto my right ankle and then fall to my knees.

The same ankle I have broken three times.

The same ankle I have sprained so many times I have lost track.

The same ankle that is so screwed up and badly patched that after one x-ray y my doctor he took back my handicap tag application and wrote "disfigured right foot" under reasons for needed a handicapped tag.

So back to the front porch.

I am on my knees when the pain of my right foot hits me and I think I a about to throw up. I pull it out in front of me and look at it and immediately know that if its not broken its badly sprained.

Trying to move my toes and I have to suck in breath. I feel tears begin to sting my eyes and suddenly think. Didn't I used to compete with broken limbs?

Pulling out my cell phone I call my fiance Chris. I get his voice mail and I sit there for a moment wondering what to say.

It has come to the worst case scenario. I am trapped, on my front porch, with my anti-social dog. I have fallen, and I can't get up.

Hanging up the phone, I throw my flip flops at the dog who is sleeping peacefully in the sun.

Then I remember, my laptop is plugged in just inside the door.

Reaching inside the screen I drag my laptop to me by the cord and boot it up. using my arms and left leg I lever myself into a patio chair and set myself up with my lap top and set to distract myself until Chris comes home.

He calls and I pick up my cell phone, trying to hold back tears.

"What happened?" he says sounding annoyed.

"The dog tripped me and I fell down and hurt my foot and can't put weight on it, I am stuck on the front porch, but I have my phone and my laptop." I say, voice wavering with tears.

I hear him start to swear and rant as he puts the phone down.

Hearing myself begin to apologize for calling saying I didn't know what to do because it hurts really bad. My inner voice is whacking my head with a newspaper screaming "Don't apologize! Why are you apologizing?!"

"What do you want me to do about it?!" he yells.

I am shocked. I am no longer upset. I am deeply, passionately, pissed off.

"Thanks you for calling, it was so kind of you to be concerned." I say and hang up.

Seated, unable to get up and throw things, unable to yell because I am outside in front of the neighbors, unwilling to cry,ankle throbbing in time with the beat of my heart I try to pull myself together into a state of calm resepctability.

I take some deep breathes and try to focus on anything besides the deep, burning, throb that is my right foot.

I try to think schematics of my house. Where is the nearest cane? Chris has a skateboard in the living room maybe I could sit on it and scoot to the kitchen for an icepack? did I need an x-ray? did we have ace bandages? How was I going to make us dinner? Did the dog need to go potty? hell we lived on a 2nd floor walk up! How was the laundry going to get done?

Suddenly the reality of what just happened fell on me like a bucket of water and I was in a panic. There was three cats, a dog, and a redheaded human male to take care of and I couldn't just trust that he would pick up and take over the things that I did because I couldn't walk.

Just as I was trying to psyche myself up to try to crawl inside and find my old foot brace or an ace bandage the dog did his "ZOMG! Daddy came home and he brought the car!" song and dance.

Chris came upstairs, came out to the patio, looked at my foot and said "Wow, you aren't going to be able to walk on that for a few days, let me get ice and find an ace bandage."

So I lifted the death threat I had put on him. He actually helped me get inside, set me up comfy with an icepack and a book. Even went and bought me an iced coffee.

It wasn't until 3 hours later that he started complaining about being hungry and asking if we really were going to eat Peanut butter and jelly, cereal, and ramen for the next few days because that was all he could make.

To be fair he did set everything out for me and got me a chair to sit in while I cooked. And he does help me get things so I don't have to move around a lot, and he makes me ice my ankle.

Still, I see the wheels turning in his head on how to get me to the laundromat with the 4 baskets of laundry and not need to stay himself.

So yes, I have probably further screwed up my foot. Possibly done irreparable damage but in this comically hard luck life of mine, nothing comes as a surprise to me anymore.

I hope by the end of next week that my foot is significantly better, I'm not holding my breath.

In the end, everyone falls at one point or another, it take a strong will, and the support of someone who care to lever ourselves back up to soldier on.