I can't walk.
No, I didn't drink myself to excess, nor did I party too hardy, and I wish I had some great story to go along with how I might have broken my foot, but the truth is, I did this while stepping up to a sidewalk.
Brad came by around 6, and he wanted to go somewhere else to eat and not pay the $$$ parking for this hotel. I met him outside, and we decided on the Silver Diner, since they would let him smoke there. We parked between the Silver Diner and Ruby Tuesday's, and we walked up to the Silver Diner.
At some point, the sidewalk sloped downwards sharply. I wasn't expecting the sidwalk to do this, but the point where it sloped downwards was not only unmarked (usually such things have yellow warning stripes), but part of it had crumbled away, and thus, that's where my foot found itself. My body flailed wildy, and my mind thought I probably stepped into a hole, so the other foot went wide to compensate for the loss of balance. But what I didn't know (partially because I have poor night vision) is that I was on a ramp, and so my foot didn't land anywhere near where I thought it would, and I took a tumbling roll, and my head smacked into something I assumed was the pavement, shooting the glasses off my face. I badly skinned the knee part of my pants, so my knees were stinging and my right foot was in terrible pain.
It took me about a minute to compose myself. Brad said my head didn't hit the pavement, but the back of his leg, which gives you an idea of how confused I was in the dark as to which way was up. I pulled myself up the edge of the Silver Diner. I tested out my ankle. It supported my weight, but just barely. Brad found out he couldn't smoke there, so we went to Ruby Tuesday's instead, where it was really crowded.
My right foot hurt like a motherfucker. I mean, I have felt worse pain, and that's part of the problem. After that emergency pulpectomy 9 years ago, my threshold of pain is much different. So I moved my foot and ankle around. It moved, with pain, but I kept thinking, "Aw, it's okay. I have had worse." After all, it supported my weight, was still slightly flexible, and wasn't swelling. I just took a bad fall.
I got the wonderful waitress to get me Tylenol, and by the end of the evening, I felt better. Brad dropped me back off at the hotel, I hobbled back to my room (no small feat, this hotel is huge), got some ice, put my feet up, and took a good look at my foot. No real swelling, no discoloration, and it looked fairly normal. I put on the ice pack, and fell asleep to Paris Hilton doing SNL.
Then I woke up this morning. Much different story. Pain. Mucho pain, and I was unable to support my weight on my foot. Actually, that's not true, I *can* support my weight on it, it's just that actually flexing my foot to walk is not doable. It's like all the muscles on the top of my foot are torn apart. This time, there was some swelling. Fuck. There was no way in hell I would get to the Metro with all the hills and weighed down with luggage. Hell, I won't make it to the elevator.
So I called Christine to come pick me up. She'll be here in a little while, and then I am having her drop me off at Fair Oaks Hospital.