I was carrying a large stack of flattened boxes down the concrete stairs to Friend's apartment door. I apparently didn't peek around the boxes well enough because I missed the last step and I came tumbling down amidst a large flurry of cardboard. I find this rather unfortunate.
First, it hurt. Friend's neighbor came out of her apartment and said, "Oh, no. Are you OK?"
"Um," I said, for I make no sound upon injuring myself, "I don't know. I think so. I can get out of your way though." And I politely tried to drag my body out of the way of the stairs.
"No, you're fine there. But can I help you? Or call someone?"
"I think I'm OK." I said. "My friend should be along soon and once I settle for a minute, I think I can get up." Then I realized that last statement - if the screaming pain in my right ankle was any indication - might be very false.
But I did pull myself to my feet, took a moment to bitterly regret that I'd tucked my large soda in my purse to leave both hands free for boxes, then unlocked Friend's door and went inside.
"What happened?" She asked. "Are you hurt?"
"Um, yes. I think so." I offered. I was pouring liquid out of my purse and sighed when seeing my cell phone floating in the dark cola. "Hell." I said, and hoped it would function when it dried. It does not.
I made my way over to the sofa and sat, placing my ankle up on a TV tray and realizing it wasn't hurting all that much at all.
"You could look at it." I told her, confident in her medical ability.
"Oh." She said, when I removed my sock. "That's the wrong shape. Well, let me see the other ankle." I propped it up next to the hurting one. "Oh, no." She said. "Definitely not the right shape. What's the plan?"
"What do you mean?" I asked, frowning at the huge, swollen lump on the outside of my right leg.
"Are we doing to the hospital now?"
"No. I don't go to hospitals. What do you think is wrong with it?" I continued to stare, wiggling my toes to prove I was perfectly fine.
"If my foot looked like that, I'd go to the hospital to let them x-ray it and tell me what was wrong." She advised.
"No." I said again. "I don't do that. It will get better."
So I told her to go pack boxes while I placed the ice she gave me around it. I wrote down title and author for stacks of books she gave me that she wants to be rid of. Then I laid down and winced when I realized the Advil wasn't quite killing the pain.
"I want to go home." I called down the hall where she was packing.
"You want to go the hospital?" She clarified.
"No." I repeated. "I want to go home. But you'll have to drive - I don't know that I can. Oh, and can you also go in CVS and buy me ice packs? And a new Ace bandage?"
She shook her head at my foolishness, but agreed.
"The human body is quite resilient." I told her as we made our way out to my house.
"Yes." She said mildly. "When it's young and not terribly injured."
"I'll have you know it's not even hurting now." I informed her, offended. "And I'm younger than you are! By like 6 years!" 34-28=6, I told myself with a nod, pleased I was right. Then I sent mental energy to my ankle insisting that it make itself well.
"I guess we can go to the hospital tomorrow." I sighed after making my way painfully down my short hallway.
"Go to the hospital tonight?" She clarified and I shook my head.
"I don't want to go now. I must give it time to heal itself. But I would like to walk again at some point. So I'll let them poke and wrench at it if it's not any better tomorrow."
So I am now rather comfortably settled on the couch with my feet on an ottoman. I moved my laptop charger over from its usual spot by the loveseat and asked Friend for some water and the baklava we got to go after our Greek lunch. My ankle is swollen terribly, but it doesn't hurt when I keep it still. So I'm going to try to get up again soon. Just to see if my youthful body has magically been made better from when I fell down and bruised the entire side of my ankle.
"Definitely not the right color or shape." Friend pronounced when I asked her to wrap it for me.
I think it'll be fine. Or I'll let you know how my trip to the ER goes. One or the other.