Birthday on Crutches

I sure didn't expect to spend my 36th birthday on crutches.

Nevertheless, it happened. I was at a friend's house Wednesday evening, following another friend down some steps as we were heading to our cars. At the bottom step, my left ankle popped.

I spent the next 20 minutes -- 30 minutes? more? -- icing the ankle, feeling faint and counting my lucky stars that I could still wiggle my toes. I hobbled to one friend's car while the other drove my car home.

It was a painful night, and the next day was even worse. I barely made it down the stairs in the morning, and when I later tried to move from the couch I realized that I couldn't put any weight on it. I called Paul at work.

He called a friend who is a doctor, who confirmed that a visit to the doctor probably wasn't necessary. Instead, Paul picked up a compression bandage, air cast and crutches, and dropped them off at home before a meeting.

I was on crutches through my birthday on Saturday, only leaving the house to sit on the porch (where the mosquitoes promptly ate me up, so happy birthday to me). Now I don't need the crutches, but I keep the ankle wrapped when I go out. I limp when I walk and I can't stand for long periods of time, but I'm much more mobile than I was a few days ago.