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School’s Ou...ch - July 2008
This was all set to be a cracker of a month, what with the school year coming to an end and six long, blissful weeks of summer holidays. However - and, as usual, there has to be a “however” - my joy was short-lived. VERY short-lived. Seven hours, to be precise.
I left school at 4pm, having wished my colleagues happy holidays. I made the journey home with a smile on my face, full of the joys of summer. However, by 11pm I was lying in an crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs, having fallen off my high heels and taken a tumble, and within minutes my left ankle had swollen up to twice its usual size.
Apart from the fact that both Nicky and I were too drunk to drive to the hospital, the worst part of the situation was that Nicky had been warning me for years about the dangers of this particular pair of shoes. They have solid wooden platform soles, high heels and no fastenings of any kind, making them especially unsuitable for negotiating stairs whilst drunk. And they don’t fit properly, either; my feet are skinnier than average and seem to slip and slide about within these shoes. Luckily, Nicky was kind enough not to bother with the “I told you so” lecture, and instead put me to bed with a bottle of water and some high strength, hardcore pain killers. |
After going to hospital the next day, we were told that it was only a sprain and not a break. Phew! But this didn’t make me feel any better about the pain. I was fine whilst the effects of the pain killers remained in my system, but as soon as they wore off I was in excruciating agony and was reaching for them once again. I am not a fan of pain killers - I only ever resort to them as a desperate measure, because I don’t like the way they make one’s brain lie to one’s body about how well one is - but really, there was no way I could have gone without them. Unfortunately one of their side effects is that they give me terrible indigestion-style cramps, but that was still better than enduring full-on ankle agony. I also paid a visit to an orthopaedic masseur, who took a long look at my ankle and declared that I should have total rest for at least four weeks, probably longer.
Now, I know that it sounds like fun to lie flat out in front of the TV and be waited upon. However, when it’s ENFORCED relaxation, and the only way you can get to the toilet is to crawl, it’s not quite so enjoyable. I felt terribly guilty watching poor Nicky cooking, washing up, tidying, doing the laundry and so on, especially as it wasn’t his fault I’d decided to wear the stupid shoes. It also didn’t help that I had well-meaning but ridiculous people calling me up and saying, “You poor thing. Oh well, at least you have six weeks‘ holiday.” Who wants to spend their holiday laid up with their foot in a bag of frozen peas, when they could have done exactly the same thing during work time and left the holiday free for fun? |
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