It happened one year ago today. I had taken a shower and was getting ready to go out. Because we are very poor, my life partner Mark and I live in a very small room, which serves as a living room/dining room/bedroom/office. It is rather crowded with furniture, books, and computer paraphernalia.I was rushing around to get ready to go out with Mark to do --- laundry! That's how I was spending my day off from work! Anyway, in my mad rush to get ready, I raced out of the bathroom and DID NOT PUT MY SLIPPERS ON.
Mark has a gigantic round glass dining-room table, which at that time was in the middle of the room. I HATE that table. I think it is ugly. It has always been my enemy (I prefer pretty wooden tables -- I can't help it, I'm a girly girl.) I skidded on my wet feet and my left foot smacked directly into the wrought-iron chair legs. The chair leg went right between my two smallest toes and my toes wrenched apart. I could feel something tearing inside my foot. I screamed in pain because it really hurt!
"What's the matter?" Mark cried, as he ran out of the closet-sized kitchen.
I was sitting down now, holding my foot, crying in pain. "I really banged my foot on this stupid chair!" The pain was intense. I limped back to bed. I figured the pain would go away in awhile. Mark looked at me skeptically. "We really need to do this laundry." I just looked at him. "I can't even walk! How can I go do the laundry?"
Mark finally realized that I was too injured to move. He went to the laundromat. We both thought that I would feel better in awhile, that the pain was just temporary, like a badly stubbed toe. I lay in bed, but the pain seemed to get worse.
The next two days I called in sick to work. I could not walk. "You know, I'm going to have to see a doctor," I told Mark. "If I'm absent from work for three days or longer, I have to have a doctor's note." Fortunately, I have medical insurance, which doesn't require a referral to see a specialist. I could go right to the podiatrist. That's good. You know, I pay over $50 a week (out of my pathetic salary) for medical and dental insurance. I deserve good care.By the time I went to the podiatrist Mark had to help me hobble into the office. I simply could not walk from the car on my own. The doctor took X-rays and showed us the results. I had a broken foot! This explained why it was so painful. That "tearing" feeling was actually a bone breaking!
It would take four-to-six weeks to heal with new strapping applied weekly. Fortunately, I was able to take a leave of absence from my job and was eligible for temporary disability. My employer took a long time to send the paperwork to the New Jersey Disability office, but I must say that the State of New Jersey cut my disability checks in record time! I definitely cannot complain about them. They were great!
March 9, 2009 was on a Monday. It was an eventful week, as I will tell you on my post on the 13th.
P.S. By the way, that stupid table has been moved into the corner of the living room/dining room/bedroom/office.
I have also learned to wear my slippers.
Mark has a gigantic round glass dining-room table, which at that time was in the middle of the room. I HATE that table. I think it is ugly. It has always been my enemy (I prefer pretty wooden tables -- I can't help it, I'm a girly girl.) I skidded on my wet feet and my left foot smacked directly into the wrought-iron chair legs. The chair leg went right between my two smallest toes and my toes wrenched apart. I could feel something tearing inside my foot. I screamed in pain because it really hurt!
"What's the matter?" Mark cried, as he ran out of the closet-sized kitchen.
I was sitting down now, holding my foot, crying in pain. "I really banged my foot on this stupid chair!" The pain was intense. I limped back to bed. I figured the pain would go away in awhile. Mark looked at me skeptically. "We really need to do this laundry." I just looked at him. "I can't even walk! How can I go do the laundry?"
Mark finally realized that I was too injured to move. He went to the laundromat. We both thought that I would feel better in awhile, that the pain was just temporary, like a badly stubbed toe. I lay in bed, but the pain seemed to get worse.
The next two days I called in sick to work. I could not walk. "You know, I'm going to have to see a doctor," I told Mark. "If I'm absent from work for three days or longer, I have to have a doctor's note." Fortunately, I have medical insurance, which doesn't require a referral to see a specialist. I could go right to the podiatrist. That's good. You know, I pay over $50 a week (out of my pathetic salary) for medical and dental insurance. I deserve good care.By the time I went to the podiatrist Mark had to help me hobble into the office. I simply could not walk from the car on my own. The doctor took X-rays and showed us the results. I had a broken foot! This explained why it was so painful. That "tearing" feeling was actually a bone breaking!
It would take four-to-six weeks to heal with new strapping applied weekly. Fortunately, I was able to take a leave of absence from my job and was eligible for temporary disability. My employer took a long time to send the paperwork to the New Jersey Disability office, but I must say that the State of New Jersey cut my disability checks in record time! I definitely cannot complain about them. They were great!
March 9, 2009 was on a Monday. It was an eventful week, as I will tell you on my post on the 13th.
P.S. By the way, that stupid table has been moved into the corner of the living room/dining room/bedroom/office.
I have also learned to wear my slippers.
