I landed in the ER last Friday for the very stupidest injury of all time. I sustained it while eating dinner with my girlfriends at a local restaurant called Seersucker. What happened was this:
I was eating, and then I moved my foot.
And that is all. Some ridiculous malfunction happened and a shocking and searing pain traveled up my Achilles Tendon, cramped my foot, and I thought well hmmmmm. This certainly is suckish. I kept up with conversation, didn’t let on that I was wondering if I’d be able to walk home, and gingerly moved my ankle in circles trying to right my left foot. All to no avail and I finally had to admit to my girlfriends as we were getting up to walk home that eh…I’m going to slow us down a bit for I cannot walk so well and ha ha ha I have no idea what happened.
By the time I got home it was pretty clear this was more than a cramp so I took a fistfull of ibuprofen stuck a pillow under my leg closed my eyes and tried to come up with a better story about this injury. Saving kittens from a burning building? Helping the DEA demolish meth labs in Brooklyn? Harvesting organic produce from a local farmer? Whatever. I had no story still by the time I woke up and I still couldn’t walk so I called a car service and went to Long Island College Hospital Emergency Room.
Let’s just say I don’t expect much from ER’s in Brooklyn, and I get exactly what I expect. It was a three hour stay, with me repeatedly telling them the non-story, pointing to where it hurt, explaining that I’d injured it terribly while kickboxing about ten years ago and that it was probably related to that, but that I now I need to be able to manage it and not make it worse; for I cannot sit still for more than about thirty seconds what with my life choice to have twin infants right now. They insisted it was broken for a while (which shocked me because it obviously was not broken. Obviously. To me. And then finally to them.) Then they just said basically what Scooby Doo always says, you know – “Ruh-Ro! I don’t know!” with a shrug of the shoulders and the awesome advice to stay off of it and try some ice and ibuprofin and they almost injected me with something that probably would have been a lot of fun but I gave them the universal “STOP” hand before they injected and said “I’m nursing two babies….” at which point the doc was all, “Oh that wouldn’t have been good”.
And I’m still not certain what happened to me but I’ve been hobbled by it for about four days now. I’m coming to the conclusion that I just have a case of old. I’m old. My body is old. If it’s doing too well it reaches into its memory of past injuries and just decides to relive them, for whatever reason. I can think of no other reason that I could tear my Achilles Tendon by moving my left foot a few degrees in any direction. But that’s what I did. Old. Sucks.
Now, get off my lawn you young hoodlum whippersnappers.