My Left Foot

In 1998, before I knew the wonderous-ness of Carolyn, I was at Last Concert Café. I don’t recall who was playing that night, unfortunately. I have tried over the years to recall more about that night, but beyond what I did and what this girl, Courtney, was wearing, my mind is blank. Last Concert looks like it has been pieced together over the years. You enter at the front door, walk through a tiny, tiny restaurant area, pass the corner bar, you walk through a swinging door to get to what once was the stage area. Towards the front there are restrooms, which are scary and always made me wonder if they were port-a-potties built into a wall. Off to the right, there is the stage which has a garage door at the back, which opens into the backyard. In the back, there is a large stage, a dance area, picnic tables, all sorts of room. In June of 1998, a Wednesday night, we ventured to Last Concert…again...I don’t recall all the particulars of the evening, I was not a huge drinker at that time, and was highly intoxicated by the end of the night. We were outside, the band that was playing on the small inside stage was taking a break. I needed to use the potty. I saunter onto the inside stage and promptly find myself face first on the floor. In my intoxicated state, I did not realize that there was a foot drop off from the stage to the floor. I crushed my ankle in the fall, nearly blacked out after I pulled myself up, hobbled to the bathroom line and sat in a semi-fetal position for some time.

The reason that I recall it was a Wednesday night is because the following morning, we were leaving for South Padre Island where my sister was to be wed on Saturday. And where I was to be a bridesmaid in some strappy heels. It was a quasi-Catholic ceremony so much standing and sitting and standing and sitting ensued. Much pain was experienced. At the reception, my sister’s maid of honor, an occupational therapist, babied me throughout the reception, bringing me Coke to go with my dad’s bottle of Crown. My family kindly provided me a clear view of all the festivities, including the mariachi band, my Uncle requesting they play the Yellow Rose of Texas and then getting down with my Aunt. Fun times. I don’t recall quite how long it took for my ankle to heal that time. I do remember I had to take time off from my job because I couldn’t handle a 6-8 hour stint of being on my feet. But it healed.

The next major fall was at my first paralegal job. I was leaving for the day, carrying a few boxes, my empty coffee travel mug, and I missed the first step, and rolled down the next 6. I landed with my ankle underneath me. I managed to get up, get to my feet and then home. Where I realized that I had done some damage. It swelled quite quickly, bruised over the next several hours and refused to bear any weight. The next day at work, my attorney suggested I go to the doctor. I finally gave in and visited a local walk-in clinic. Once I uttered that it had happened at work, boy howdy, those folks knew their ship had come in! I was given the royal treatment! I left that place with a splint, crutches and lots of happy pills. I was told to return 2x a week to check the progress. Each visit resulted in an offer of more happy pills and further treatment. Lots of further treatment. Lots of Billables! What a scam they had going. After about 4-5 weeks of this, I felt well enough that I told them no more and shut down their scheme. Also during this time, I moved. From my one bedroom ground level apartment into an apartment with my ex on the second floor. If you are moving, may I recommend you injure yourself prior to doing so. Makes it much easier! Those stairs were a bitch though for the next few weeks on crutches.
While I managed to remain injury free for the next 5 or so years, the ankle was weak for some time. If I worked out too hard, I would notice. I was much more prone to turn it in my stupid work heels. If I sat on it, it would complain. It has been an on-again, off-again issue for years.

And yesterday….



R-I-C-E

Rest
Ice
Compression
Elevation

My sister’s maid of honor instilled that in my brain so many years ago. I have never had a chance to forget it. Dammit.