My Achy, Breaky Foot

It happened like this: I was skiing down a run at Mount Hood and a snowboarder cut me off. I lost my balance, took a tumble, and landed on my foot. Ok, it didn't really happen like that. I haven't been skiing this year and I have yet to make it to Mount Hood, even though I hear it's like a hour away. That story just sounds better than what really happened to my poor foot. It was late at night and I was walking from the kitchen to the couch, my foot twisted inward, I lost my balance, and I landed right on top of it. Yeah, that's how I really broke my foot.

It's my first broken bone and I was oh so excited to get a cast. Have people sign it adding the kind of funny pictures and notes that make High School Yearbooks epic. But that didn't seem to be in the cards for me. In fact, the whole experience from break to heal wasn't at all what I thought it would be.

Das Boot!

When I first landed on my foot and heard something crack, Matt offered to take me to the emergency room. I'm not one for hospitals and who am I kidding? It was late. So I did what I thought anyone with a hurt foot would do: I elevated it and put ice on it. Next day, I couldn't really walk on it.

I called my doctor and instead of saying "Come on in, we'll take a look at it." Without even speaking to him on the phone I was told to go get an x-ray at where else? The hospital. A couple of hours later the verdict was in: the foot was broken. My doctor's receptionist told me to go to the Orthopedic Specialist. Now either this was insanely efficient or totally odd. I still can't decide.

After calling the Orthopedic Specialist I finally got an appointment the next day. Once there, what do you think happened? I had to get another x-ray. Yep, the foot was still broken. They gave me a boot, which I've come to call fondly, "Das Boot." I'd have to wear it for 6 weeks, which turned into 2 months. The doctor said I didn't have to come back for a month, but I shouldn't walk on it a lot. In fact, I had a trip to New York planned and was told I should get a wheelchair to the gate. While I wasn't a big fan of doing this, I can honestly say I would have missed more than one plane if I didn't follow the doctor's orders.

After the second visit to the doctor I had to go back every two weeks. Now, the Orthopedic Specialist office is not close and I'd have to take a few buses to get there. I couldn't drive because it was my right foot that was broken. What would a girl from New York do? Take a cab of course.

Here's what I learned about cabs. Yeah, you can't really walk out of your building and hail one. However, you can call and the cab will arrive in about five minutes. The cab dispatchers came to know me by my name and even learned my frequented stops. They're probably able to do that because my phone number is attached to my stops. Still, I liked the personal touch. The cab drivers were friendly always with a story to tell about the old days of Portland or their life adventures. It made the trips to the Orthopedic Specialist all that more interesting.

While my foot is on the mend (I might even be able to start running next week. Not that I run, but, you know, it's nice to have the option), I don't think I'll stop taking cabs any time soon. If anything, it's nice to realize that it's a lot easier to catch a cab than I previously thought. That's a definite plus!