I Broke My Foot

Fall came to Los Angeles.

Mr. Pennington finally won the Halloween costume contest at work. He usually gets second place, as it is highly competitive. Yay!!

Well-deserved, don’t you think?

I stopped taking writing classes. I switched to improv, for the challenge and stimulation. And laughs.

Improv is so different and very hard for me.

Someone throws an idea out there and my brain starts chewing on all the directions this could go. What a fantastic scenario!

But there is only one response in improv.

It has to come fast.

It’s not a think.

It’s a do.

“Yes, and . . . !”

In improv, if someone gives you this:

Rushing to get to work, you stumbled over the stretchy turtleneck you had tossed to the floor before you got in the shower, launched into the air, and being the elite athlete you are, gracefully stuck the landing on the side of your foot, breaking it so badly you need immediate surgery while your husband is in India!

The only response is:

“Yes, and . . . !”

After I fell and realized this was serious, my lovely friend to whom I will be forever grateful abandoned her day to take me to Urgent Care, where the story of my injury got Even. More. Dramatic.

So dramatic, I got it in published on the Pain News Network just today. Read it here:

Severely Injured? Don’t Count on Getting Opioid Pain Medication.

WTF Cedars-Sinai. Take Advil?

Throughout that dramatic day, I asked everyone:

Do you tell the husband in India when there’s nothing he can do for you anyway and he has important work?

I got 10 yes and 3 no.

Mr. Pennington’s trips to the other side of the planet are brutal. I did not want to stress him further. But when it became clear I’d be having surgery right away, I suppose you have to tell him. So I did.

Since there was nothing he could do, Mr. Pennington said a prayer to the ears of the bull at Mahabalipuram in Tamil Nadu.

The bull answered.

My EDS body coped so well, I am astounded.

I have such a terrible time with surgery, I will only sign up for it if death is the other option. But this time, it was a breeze. Read about it in my post On Taking Naltrexone With An Opioid.

Here are some of the fabulous selfies I took along the way:

Sobbing at Urgent Care
Dear Friend who drove me to medical treatment, bought and assembled bath bench, helped me draw Ascor shots (I did 4 per day for excellent healing) and picked me up at 4:00 a.m. for surgery
Surgery
Enjoying my morning cappuccino
Post-op X-ray with Gudetama

Yay!!

Is this my flimsy EDS body responding like a healthy collagen-typical?

“Yes, and . . . !”

Mr. Pennington’s trip finally came to its scheduled end.

He packed up his stuff and checked out of the 5 star hotel where you must not open your mouth in the shower and you must brush your teeth with bottled water.

At the Chennai airport, pigeons were also waiting for a flight.

He glanced at the British Airways menu, snuggled up, took off out of India for London and went to sleep. He had caretaker duties to get ready for.

I woke up at 4:30 a.m. from pain. Wow did that injury and surgery hurt. Good timing. Mr. Pennington had arrived at Heathrow, where he was having a burger.

We had a midnight chat.