It's a good thing authors don't write with their feet. Although, on that note, I picked up some stationary recently that was made by the "Foot and Mouth Artists", those very talented individuals who have to create but don't have the use of their hands to do so. They draw and paint incredible pieces of art with their mouth or feet. I'm pretty sure, if I had to, I would find some way to type or write with my feet. But I digress.
I got to sleep in Sunday morning. It's probably the one benefit of having a 3PM-6PM church schedule. And I really mean the ONE benefit. Primary really has it bad. The kids under 5 want to nap and everyone is really hungry for dinner by the time church lets out. But I got to sleep in until ten. I get up early Mon-Fri and the last several Saturdays I've had something going on so Sunday is all I have.
When the whisper gets around my house that Mommy is awake five pairs of ears perk right up. I cuddled with three of my kids before even getting out of bed. The other two were doing dishes. But we had allergy medicine to distribute and daily vitamins so I got out of bed and prepared to go upstairs to take care of that.
I hate being tall. I know, everyone out there under 5'5" hates being short and they'd exchange tall for short any day. But really, sometimes being tall is a pain. Case in point: pajama pant legs hit my shins like long capris. (Capri pants look like knee shorts but we're talking about my pajamas at the moment) I lifted my left foot to place it on the first stair and it got caught in my right pant leg. My momentum was already propelling me forward only now I had no leg to land on. Images of bruised and battered knees flashed through my head as I struggled to get my foot out before I fell onto the stairs. And I did, with such force I ended up kicking the front of the second stair with my left toes. Hard.
My second toe, because of the angle, ended up taking the brunt of the impact rather than my big toe. I hobbled up the rest of the stairs with my oldest son asking if I was okay and of course me telling him I was. I took care of the meds and everything and got my breakfast and most of the pain faded but I started to notice when I walked the tip of the toe felt weird. It hurt a little to walk on, but if I kept my weight off the toes when I walked it was fine.
The day went on. I got ready for church, put on my nice, long black skirt and my high heels (smart, huh?) and we went to church. I noticed the more I walked the more my toe hurt, the stranger it felt. I figured I'd bruised it pretty good. When we got home I took a look at it. No obvious swelling but some slight discoloration. Bryan helped me tape the injured toe to the middle toe and we had dinner and went to bed.
At some point I woke in the night because my toe hurt like crazy. I ripped off the bandage and went back to sleep. This morning I re-taped the toe because it hurt more when I got up and also because the tip of it looks swollen and a little purple.
So, I either badly bruised my toe or I broke the bone in the tip of the toe. Either way nothing can be done for it except taping it to the other toe and hoping it will heal straight. I called the dr's office this morning to confirm that and basically we concluded that if it doesn't seem to get better in the next couple of weeks then I may have to go in and have him look at it. Right now it's an inconvenience--I keep having to remind myself to walk without limping and it's amazing how fast your brain forgets what "normal" walking feels like. Seriously, walking is something we do without thinking about it so when you think about it you almost can never do it the way you usually do. The human brain is a strange little thing.
Fortunately I just picked up a really cute pair of sandals on Friday (I really love shoes) and so I can bandage my toes without having to then shove them into a pair of shoes. I just hope it feels better before I go to New York at the end of the month. I do not want to have to take a cab from the hotel to the convention center just because my toe hurts too much to walk the relatively short distance.
But the experience on the stairs brought home a point for me that I hadn't really applied to myself. If you're going to fall, fall UP. If you're already on an upward path when you fall then you really don't fall as far. If you're body is already going down, say I had been on the top step when I got my foot caught in my pant leg, you're going to end up hurting more. It's kind of a life lesson--are you on an upward path in your life? Are you reaching for your goals and following the Spirit? Because on the staircase of life you are either moving up or down; there is no such thing as setting up camp on a single stair and hanging out there for a while.
Incidentally I've also learned to be more careful in my selection of pajama pants. :)