and I can't get up!!
I fell down the steps.
To me, that sounds so much more dramatic than what really happened. I couldn't find the skirt I wanted to wear, so I took a basket of laundry upstairs where I could empty it, sort it, and make sure my skirt wasn't in there. Then, I thought, I might as well fill this basket with the dirty clothes so I can start another load.
I was being productive.
I even counted the steps on the way down. I knew there were fourteen. I knew I couldn't see over both the clothes basket and my growing belly. So at step number 12, I stopped and peeked under the basket to make sure there were no hoodlums lingering at the bottom of the steps.
Two more to go.
Next thing I knew, I was sitting on the bottom step. One leg under me and one leg in front of me.
I've fallen before. Many times. I just get up. I'm usually mumbling that my husband doesn't always need to frantically ask me "Are you okay?!" over every bump and bruise.
I know why he does it now.
Oh, how I love that man.
"Are you okay?"
"I broke my ankle."
"Are you sure it's not sprained?"
"Yes! Call someone, please!"
He called my mom to watch the kids and pulled our new-to-us minivan around to the front door. He carried me out to the van and drove as quickly and as slowly as he could -- being careful not to hit too many bumps while getting to the hospital as quickly as possible. He drove in circles around the parking lot until he had aligned my door perfectly with the hospital entrance.
I got to ride in a wheelchair. It wasn't as exciting as it had always seemed.
I was crying hysterically but there were no tears. It was a strange feeling. I was so upset, so in pain, and I kept thinking, Why aren't I crying? I feel like I'm crying...
They checked the baby before they checked my leg. In my pain-filled haze, I remembered -- Don't tell my husband the gender of the baby! Priorities, people. Baby was 25 weeks and perfectly fine.
Then I what I thought were the most painful x-rays I would have. I was wrong, because I had to get more later that day. The doctor came in and just shook his head. "You're going to need surgery and I don't know how they are going to do it while you're pregnant."
No. I am not having surgery.
We followed-up with an orthopedic doctor who said I might not need surgery.
That's more like it.
I think I scared the poor nurse when I shouted "Purple!" so quickly after she asked me what color cast I wanted. There are just some things you always wish for as a kid. Broken bones may not be one of them, but a cool cast? Every kid wants one of those...
I never realized how painful a broken bone is. I actually have three broken bones. But still. It hurts more than I imagined.
And I just feel so helpless. I have amazing friends and family who have bent-over-backwards to help me. But, I'm helpless. I'm helpless because I'm proud. I want to do it myself.
Just like my toddler. No. Don't help me get dressed. I would rather take three times as long struggling on my own than admit that you can do it faster.
I'll accept help. I just don't want to ask. I desperately want to be able to do it by myself. And, asking you... that hurts twice as much as struggling on my own.
But, I'm learning. I'm learning to be resourceful. I'm learning to be humble. I'm learning to ask for help when I need it. I'm learning to be still. I'm learning to focus less on the stuff and the tasks and more on the people in my life.
And, I'm not even half way through my first "phase" of healing...
I'm scheduling that dreaded surgery because my bones are not healing correctly after three weeks in a cast. Then I'll be in another cast for six more weeks. I'm now 28 weeks pregnant... so hopefully I will at least be able to walk when I go into labor! But, if not, I'm sure I'll learn something from that, too.