The purple foot saga continues. After assuring myself that it would be better in the morning I awake to find that it is still getting worse. The swelling is more swelled. The purpling is more purple. The pain is more paining. This was not my plan.
I decide to seek advice.
Physicist says not to bother with 6 hours in casualty as they will only X-ray it, tell me whether it is broken and send me away with a pretty white tubigrip regardless of the style of injury. I know she is right because many many a time I have accompanied her on just such a journey of futility.
Beloved is very grumpy. He doesn’t like it if I don’t function properly. He tells me that it is broken and it will take six weeks to mend and that its tough shit but don’t worry he is off to Sweden in the morning to avoid the worst excesses of my non-functionality. Also he will use the car so it doesn’t get out of practice driving places as soon as he gets back.
Daughter the Younger tells me that it will get better sooner if I go to the hospital and succumb to plastering. I will however not be able to swim or wash for 6 weeks so I may prefer to wear a stylish tubigrip (she has several in her drawer as does the physicist). She emphasises however that really I should go and get a plaster as she doesn’t trust me to be sensible. True. Yesterday I crutched through the woods for an hour in order to cure a nasty case of stir-craziness. And today I risked life and foot by going swimming.
Dance partner, who kindly rung last night to ask me to dance and was hit with the bad news, (but it’s ok because he has lots of people to dance with. Boo Hoo) advised ice, rest and elevation. And no dancing. Oh oh oh.
Ex-casualty nurse and sauna builder advised that it would be all right in the end.
Cat had no comment. Except to emphasise that he was still hungry.
If anyone more qualified than the above contributors would care to just reassure me that I will be back tangoing on Thursday please do so asap. If you are less qualified please do the same.
I have taken a picture of the offending article to aid amateur diagnosis so if you are of a squeamish nature look away now.
I decide to seek advice.
Physicist says not to bother with 6 hours in casualty as they will only X-ray it, tell me whether it is broken and send me away with a pretty white tubigrip regardless of the style of injury. I know she is right because many many a time I have accompanied her on just such a journey of futility.
Beloved is very grumpy. He doesn’t like it if I don’t function properly. He tells me that it is broken and it will take six weeks to mend and that its tough shit but don’t worry he is off to Sweden in the morning to avoid the worst excesses of my non-functionality. Also he will use the car so it doesn’t get out of practice driving places as soon as he gets back.
Daughter the Younger tells me that it will get better sooner if I go to the hospital and succumb to plastering. I will however not be able to swim or wash for 6 weeks so I may prefer to wear a stylish tubigrip (she has several in her drawer as does the physicist). She emphasises however that really I should go and get a plaster as she doesn’t trust me to be sensible. True. Yesterday I crutched through the woods for an hour in order to cure a nasty case of stir-craziness. And today I risked life and foot by going swimming.
Dance partner, who kindly rung last night to ask me to dance and was hit with the bad news, (but it’s ok because he has lots of people to dance with. Boo Hoo) advised ice, rest and elevation. And no dancing. Oh oh oh.
Ex-casualty nurse and sauna builder advised that it would be all right in the end.
Cat had no comment. Except to emphasise that he was still hungry.
If anyone more qualified than the above contributors would care to just reassure me that I will be back tangoing on Thursday please do so asap. If you are less qualified please do the same.
I have taken a picture of the offending article to aid amateur diagnosis so if you are of a squeamish nature look away now.
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