Falling
I fractured the little toe on my right foot a few years ago when I walked into a badly-placed wall in our bathroom. When my tears and screams of pain subsided, I became furious at the wall and at our house. Why was there a wall there, anyway? And why hadn’t the stinking builder made the bathroom big enough so that the door could swing open and close again without a potential user having to walk around the door first? Didn’t he realize that people who wanted to use the bathroom would probably want to close the door as well?
When I hobbled into my doctor’s office, the doctor gave it a quick look and taped the two smallest toes together. I thought something that hurt this much should have required a cast that I could decorate, or at the very least, a pair of crutches, but my doctor disagreed.
So when I fell down the stairs in our new house and smashed the little toe on my left foot, I knew better than to rush to my doctor’s office right away.
I was coming from the computer room and walking down the stairs to the living room, holding a cup of water. I was thirsty all the time, and I also had a thing about water sitting around in cups. I liked cups to be covered so that weird dusty things wouldn’t fall into the water, and before meeting Chris I had used little plates to cover my cups. Then Chris’s mother found a set of glasses she didn’t need, which all came with lids. I’d broken one cup already and didn’t have that many left.
The dogs were basking in the sun on the couch in the living room, and I was smiling at them. And yes, maybe I was talking to them a little bit as I came down the stairs.
“Hey, bubs, how ya doin’? Enjoying the sun?” I said. I looked at them as I stepped onto what I thought was the last step. And it was the last step, just not quite where I thought it was.
My foot came down hard on the floor instead of on the step, and I fell down. I screamed. Paco barked and came over to investigate.
As I moaned on the floor, Flacko also got off the couch and examined me. I had visions of a story I’d read about a Saint Bernard who wore a little Thermos filled with hot chocolate around his neck and rescued people buried in avalanches, but my dogs apparently hadn’t read that one. Instead of delivering hot drinks, the two dogs left me and got back on the couch with Mina, who hadn’t even bothered to move. They eyed me curiously, then closed their eyes to get back to the important business of napping.
Maybe I didn’t get a thermos, but I hadl managed to save my precious cup of water with its lid. Sure, a lot of the water spilled over the floor, but the cup was fine. My toe was not.
By the way the pain abated within five minutes, I could tell I hadn’t hurt it as badly as the time I walked into the bathroom wall, but I knew I’d have a monster of a bruise. I iced my foot and taped the toes together that night.
I had work the next day, so I limped around and didn’t bother seeing the doctor until another day had passed. I already had an appointment to get my cholesterol checked, so I asked the doctor to take a look at my toe.
“How you do that?” he demanded.
“I fell down the stairs in my house,” I said.
“You an old lady,” he pronounced, and I agreed.
As I’d thought, there was nothing to be done for the toe but to tape it. If I had some time, maybe I would scrawl “Best Friends 4-Eva!” on the tape, and ask Chris to sign it. There wouldn’t be room for the dogs to add their pawprints, but they didn’t deserve space on the toe, anyway. Not until they brought a steaming cup of cocoa for me.
Posted by: ssjane | April 23, 2004 | 6:53 pm
Posted in: Dogs | This Life