I sprained my ankle last night in a freak accident involving stepping on a plastic back massager. I've just returned from a visit to Urgent Care, where the nice Physician's Assistant (named Amy, too!) wrapped my ankle and told me to rest.
My little family is no stranger to ankle sprains, as Jaymz sprained his right around Christmas last year. He was running to catch the train in an effort to make it to work on time, but sadly, missed the train and we went to Urgent Care instead. It happened as I was just beginning to get out of the constant queasiness of early pregnancy. We spent Christmas day together on the couch, trying to stay warm and medicating ourselves with tea and ginger ale (me) and Vicodin and ice (Jaymz).
I had the thought this morning that the sprain is kind of like punishment for
not keeping my house more tidy....but I don't really believe that. I'm
just a little clumsy. I've slipped and fallen down the stairs more times than I care to admit. My mom has even bought me non-skid socks to wear and I've been ordered to never walk around without shoes, and yet...here I am. I have a rule of thumb that it's time to clean the house after I've injured myself—usually by stubbing a toe or bumping into something that's out of place. But this time it's gone too far. I think I need a new litmus test.
So, I want to know: Have you ever injured yourself by being too hasty (running for the train) or just plain clumsy (stepping on a back massager)? Does your mom buy you non-skid socks for your birthday every year, but you have yet to take the hint? I'd love to hear your story!