Does that wrist look dodgy to you?

Some Travels, Many Travails

So where were we? Oh right, I fell and hurt my ankle last May and in October the sports medicine guy told me I was fucked. That’s probably the best & most accurate diagnosis.

Here’s where we are now: we know that my media talar dome is smashed all to heck, two ligaments are almost completely severed, and one more is sprained. Surgery of some undisclosed variety is required and my appointment to see a surgeon theoretically comes up in a mere 7 months, then it’s a year/year and a half after that until I have surgery. According to the various doctors I’m supposed to stay off my feet until then. How hard can that be?

Then five weeks ago I tripped and hit my wrist which, rather rudely, swelled up and hurt like a bitch. I waited a week before going back to the ER where I informed the doc on call that they had mis-diagnosed 2 out of 2 broken bones so far and did he care to try for a hat trick. “Nothing broken here,” he told me, “just take it easy.” He didn’t add the word “spaz” but it was in his tone as he eyed my braced ankle. Quite frankly, the Tramadol was so good that I didn’t give a damn.

I went on my gimpy way all week and then, at the end of the week, got a flurry of calls from my family doc’s office. Seems the ER radiologist hadn’t agreed with the attending doc and thought I had a hairline fracture. Unfortunately, that info took so long to get to me that I found out just as I was leaving for Cuba for two weeks. The best advice my doc’s nurse could give me was to wrap it and get it re-x-rayed on my return.

Yup, Cuba for the rum cure!! A friend recently mentioned this knee scooter he used when he had a broken ankle so I ordered an all-terrain version from the US. With that, I figured I could manage an accessible all-inclusive type deal in Varadero. As long as there were ramps and elevators, I could go anywhere on my scooter. I wrapped my wrist, braced my ankle and had a fantastic time scooting about. The weather was warm, the drinks were cold and the men were hot. This was strictly a lounger vacation but it was fantastic just to be outside and around people. The most danger I was in was aftershave poisoning from kissing Cuban boys.

At the end of two weeks, and after a wretched airport experience, I arrived home around 3am, made my bed and got three hours of sleep before going out in search of food. I arrived home to find my living room carpeted in barf.

Unusually, it was not mine.

Tofu the wonder dog had ripped into my luggage and eaten a large puck of dark chocolate, a bag of gum containing xylitol (super toxic for dogs) and some of my travel documents. I rushed her to the emergency vet where she was purged, charcoaled, medicated and rehydrated over the next 30 hours for the same price as my two week vacation. I picked her up the next evening and was informed that she needed to be fed every two hours overnight, increasing to four and then six hour increments the following day. I was not to take my eyes off her for more than an hour.

I am a dedicated doggy mommy and she recovered but, with no sleep in my system, I developed the incredible persistent head cold from hell. My wrist has been rechecked and has either healed or was never broken - choose your preferred narrative. I keep re-injuring my ankle doing such wild tricks as standing up to go to the bathroom. Oh, and I’m a little cranky. Not so you could tell or anything.