Last night while playing volleyball my shoe grabbed the rubbery floor and decided to stay put while I fell forward. Yes, I tripped over my own foot.
I broke my foot and possibly ruptured a tendon. I'm not able to move my big toe and we'll know for sure on Wednesday if I'll need surgery or not (although it's not likely). I have a new found respect for all those who've ever used crutches. They're awful and possibly worse than having a broken foot all together.
I'm quickly realizing how completely unable I am to do basic tasks. I can't carry my baby, grab the phone, go to the bathroom, or make meals without assistance. I'm not allowed to bathe until Wednesday (when I'll hopefully get a walking boot) so stay away. I may have to break that rule with a trash bag taped around my cast. I can't imagine not bathing after sweating through 3 volleyball games. I smell like the dancing bear.
Jared and I are so appreciative of all the phone calls and help we've received. If it weren't for my mom and Jess T. I wouldn't have made it to my appointment with the surgeon this morning. Richard and Anita stepped right up last night and brought the kids home, put them to bed, and Anita cleaned my kitchen.
I'm not real sure how the next several days are going to go but with a little prayer and some ice I should be fine. I can't take the pain medication because of nursing the baby so I'm not getting much relief from the discomfort. My only option was to wean her and if you read my previous blog you know how I feel about all that. I'm willing to suffer through if I can continue. To quit now doesn't feel like an option.
I just keep thinking, "Seriously, a broken foot and 5 kids. Wow this will be interesting."