It was near the end of the afternoon. The maids had just left for the day. I was on my computer searching Amazon.com when the phone rang. I sat the computer on the table, jumped up, and headed over to the message center to answer the phone. UGH! I hit my foot on the coffee table leg. I think its made of iron.
It must have been moved closer to the couch when the maids cleaned it. By the time I limped over to the phone, I was nearly in tears. It was my husband calling to one, tell me he loved me, and two, ask what our plans were for dinner. In staggered breaths, I said, "I'm...making...Spaghetti." He asked what was wrong. I told him. He apologized. Why? I don't know. For making me rush to the phone? It was no one's fault. Well...maybe, I could blame Murphy. No. It was all me and my klutzy side.
He volunteered to stop at the library and pick up our youngest (he volunteers there), so I wouldn't have too drive. My Stepdaughter came up and helped me with the dinner while I limped around the kitchen. When they got home, my husband took over in the kitchen so I could lay down. Our youngest hooked me up with an ice pack, elevated my foot, and got my a glass of wine to calm my nerves. I still can't believe how much it hurt. I must be getting old. I mean I've had worse injuries than this over the years. Before long, all the kids were helping out with the dinner preparation. Mmmm...maybe I should get hurt more often. Nah...definitely not worth it.
After dinner, we all sat around and watched the Red Sox game. I kept my foot up and on ice getting up only to move laundry from the washer to the dryer, and folding (laundry never ends in this house and I'm the only one who does it right). Afterward, I went up and read until I fell asleep. It was difficult to sleep with my foot elevated. I naively told myself it would be all better by morning.
It wasn't. By morning, it was purple. My husband didn't wake me up to come down and have coffee. He thought I should get my rest, sleep in. "I don't want to sleep in. Maybe I can't get my shoes on, but I can still do other stuff, right?" I took my time getting down the stairs, the cat at my side the whole way. We had our coffee together.
Afterwards, still in my pajamas, I went down to well...do what I could. The treadmill was out. I did 100 sit ups, 100 raised leg crunches, 100 butt lifts, and 500 miscellaneous small weight repetitions. I really wanted to do push ups, but I couldn't put weight on the one foot. So, today I did my 50 push ups with my left leg up and over the right leg. It was slower and more challenging, but I made it through. Today wasn't a day to sweat.
Today was a day to tell myself, screw the injury. Its probably broken, but I'm not going to be one of those people who say they can't do something. Its like my husband says, "What are you gonna do? You can't splint a broken toe." Its a good feeling to know my dictionary doesn't have the word "can't" in it anymore. That woman, the one who made excuses not to work out? She's not there anymore. She believes that with a positive attitude, and a little tenacity, you can accomplish anything you desire.
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