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In honor of the fan-freaking-tastic weather today, I decided to bust out, to go someplace and enjoy the day.  So I went to campus, found myself a spot and started to read some Voltaire (hey, just because it was a gorgeous day didn’t mean I had carte blanche to ignore homework).  But it was too noisy, and when I read French, the jibber-jabber of English is too great a distraction.  So I packed up my stuff and went walking.  Campus really is spiffy, especially if you know where to look.  Unfortunately, everyone knows where to look, so a quiet spot was damn near impossible to find.  It took me nearly an hour, but I did find one.  I sat down, got out my Voltaire, and finished the reading.  Then it was on to Collette (for my other French Lit class).  After I read a couple of chapters, the sky started to look as though it might spit a bit; seeing as I was far from shelter, I decided to pack up and, if the spirit was going to move me, go to the library to dispense with Collette (well, the remainder of the assigned pages).  I walked, and it was a lovely, but long, walk.  And, as it often does when I let my mind wander, I thought about what I might write today.  I remembered something that had happened way back in the last decade, when I was a young lass living in the dorms.  As I turned over the details in my mind, I figured since I was still on campus, I might as well go to the library and finish the reading.  I approached the library entrance when…

Splat!  My wobbly right ankle, which has been giving me grief since I was in the single digits, gave out.  I tried to correct myself, but it was too late, and I went down like a heavyweight with a glass jaw.  I may have hollered an obscenity – its all very hazy.  I fell completely down, sprawling everywhere, my sunglasses and keys skipping across the pavement.

As it was a glorious May-quality day in the month of March, the place was packed – and not just with students.  People huddled around me, looking concerned.  Was I okay?  I decided I was going to shake myself off and collect, along with my keys and sunglasses, the remaining molecules of my dignity.  Except, I felt my ankle bone shift in and out of it’s assigned position.  Could I put my weight on it?  Apparently not.  Eventually, a guy about my age and a couple in their 50s helped me to a bench.  The couple filled a bag with some snow (it goes to show how much had fallen that there was any left after the weather we’ve been having).  After assuring the kind bystanders that, if nothing else, I had my cell phone and I could always call someone to help me out, I was alone on the bench, a sack of filthy but soothing snow on my ankle.  It was time to plot my next move.  Calling someone did not seem to be the best plan.  I was in a pedestrian area, and figuring out the logistics would have been difficult.  Besides, it was a gorgeous Sunday afternoon.  Who was going to be home?  I checked the bus schedule.  I had twenty minutes to walk five blocks and catch a bus.  It was going to smart, but I could do that, and I figured getting home was going to be my best move.  Which is what I did.  I got home, iced and elevated, popped the Advil-like pills that I buy (since I can’t afford name brand OTCs – I’m a student, not a millionaire), and tried to relax.  But the movement of my ankle bone concerned me.  So, after awhile, I had my mother take me to the ER.  They X-ray-ed my ankle, told me that the swelling was “impressive” (and if you’ve impressed the ER, you’ve really done something).  Eventually, the PA came in and told me I had done in my last remaining ligaments, but that I had not broken my ankle (this time – apparently I had broken it before and never noticed).  I got a prescription for some Vicodin, the suggestion I go through physical therapy, and the knowledge that, due to my history of messing up my ankle but good, I was starting to develop arthritis in my ankle.  And I got a new set of crutches.  Hobbled, but still mobile – that is me in a nutshell.

I’ll save the story I was originally going to post for some other time.

If you’ll excuse me, the Vicodin is making me sleepy.

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