Broken. I limped around Providence today in a very unbroken-in pair of flats. One of my coworkers even commented that he never knew how small I was. Yeah, I guess that’s what 4 inch heels will do for you.
Finally around 3:30 I caved and called my doctor. They sent me to get an x-ray. I went to the Mount Auburn walk-in clinic. Surprisingly efficient. 2 hours later had official broken-toe diagnoses. I even know which phalange it is that is fractured. Nice. Several x-rays confirmed it. Apparently it is 6 weeks until fully healed, but it’s just until it “feels better” that I am not allowed to run or wear heels.
The doctor asked me “how long I was down for.” As in: how many minutes were you prostrate on the ground in pain. I said: zero. I finished sprinting up the stairs, and immediately went to my computer to email someone. I guess I eat nails for breakfast.
I don’t feel remotely tough right now though. Didn’t sleep last night because it hurt so much. Am sitting here with foot elevated, wrapped in ice pack. Hurts like hell. And it’s purple. I do have some spiffy silver nail polish on though!
