Clumsy, Thy Name is Mine

You know that voice that sometimes comes with a warning?

I got that yesterday.  

I was getting ready to head downstairs and the little voice said,"Don't forget to hold onto the banister."

Like a teenager, I gave attitude to the voice.  "Duh.  I always hold onto the banister since I broke my leg last fall."

But I grabbed for the banister anyway.

And within the second step down, my left ankle rolled under me and I went crashing down.  Because I was holding onto the rail, I sort of swung sideways and crashed down just one step.

I know what you are thinking.  Because I was thinking it too - in the split second from roll to crash.  Seriously?!  Did I seriously just fall down the stairs again?!

I sat down and took a breath so I could assess the damage.  

My left ankle (the previously injured one) hurt yet again.  My right foot smarted like crazy, down near the toes, and my knee was skinned.  What am I five?

I picked myself up and gingerly put my weight on my feet.  Pain shot up both legs.  Well...shoot.

My husband was out of town again, my children needed to be picked up, and I am in the middle of packing the house for a move.  I do not have time to go to the ER.  I do not have time to break anything.

I had to go get the kids from school, so I grabbed Ev's hand and carefully hobbled my way to the car, praying with every step that the pain would go away. 

And as I sat in the car, waiting for kids to come out, I tried to ignore the pain that was persistent in both appendages.

By the time I got home, I could barely walk in to the house.

The boys brought me two ice bags, one for each tweak.

It was also the day of my oldest child's birth.  Thank goodness I had done everything but decorate for him.  

After two bags of ice on each foot, I carefully made my way downstairs to celebrate James' birthday.  

My ankle is definitely tweaked, probably slightly sprained and my big toe is most likely broken or severely sprained.

It hurts to walk.  But at least I can move. 

I iced them again before bed, hoping that I would be able to walk in the morning.  And by this morning, my ankle is stiff and my toe throbs...but I can still walk.  

The joint just below my toe is swollen but a broken toe is doable.  Way better than a fractured fibula.

I am thanking my God and my lucky stars that I was holding onto the banister.

I don't know why stairs have always been so hard on me but I have been falling down stairs since we moved to a house with them when I was in my teens.  Oddly it became something of a family joke.  I even fell down a flight on stairs on my honeymoon cruise.  Husband took a picture for the album...because that's a memory to keep.  

I suppose I can blame my wankles (weak ankles that tend to roll a lot) but I think that it is probably best to admit defeat and convince my husband to install one of those stair chairs in the new house for me so that I never have to rely on my wankles to get me safely downstairs again.   

In the meantime, I am carefully walking, grabbing onto everything in sight for stability, and listening extra hard for that quiet, little voice.  It clearly knows better than me.