That’s my ankle. Well, cankle. That photo does not do justice to the size of the growth that formed on my foot yesterday. Before I get into my fun basketball experience… let me just get a few insults out of the way that I got via text/facebook last night. My favorite, from J Dot: “Nice foot, Frodo!” My own uncle: “Should of stuck to football, b-ball was never your sport!” Jondou: “that ankle looks about 5 months pregnant” Everybody: “You’re old, bro.” Husky: “Shrek feet!”
Another gem via Caster: “How’d the x-ray turn out? Negative for a break, but positive for a vagina, right?”
I play pick-up hoops with the boys twice a week. Yesterday, that caught up with me. I’ve rolled my ankle more than a dozen times in my life, but this one was the worst. Going after a loose ball… battling…pushed a tad, misstep on a stray foot, POP!…inside of my right foot is now facing upward while the outer ankle smacks the concrete…all while my body remained upright. I yelled an obscenity rather loudly. When that happens to your ankle… in the immediate… it’s about as bad as a feeling as you can physically have…
The type of pain that when you look down… you wouldn’t be all that surprised if your foot had just fallen off at the ankle. Foot gone. I tried to walk it off… get back out there… tough it out… not a chance. I left. I got home, elevated it… iced it… all that crap. This sucker just kept growing and growing and growing. My lovely bride made me go Urgent Care… I obliged.
Not many things more depressing than an Urgent Care waiting room. My buddy J Dot (nice foot, Frodo!) was kind enough to drive me… I passed the time playing Scramble with Friends, a game that I have yet to beat Showman in, but I will. Once they got me to the x-ray table… the tech said he’d never seen an ankle that ballooned before. He thought it was broken. Well, turns out, he’s an idiot. Doc got the x-rays and said, “well, it’s not broken… but wow, this isn’t your first rolled ankle, is it?” “uh, no doc… I’ve had a bunch.” “Yeah, you can tell on the x-ray. Tons of ligament damage over the years. You’ll have arthritis in your foot eventually. Nothing you can do about it.” Awesome. Just when I thought my stupid foot couldn’t hurt worse, you drop the arthritis bomb on me? WTF does that even mean? Arthritis is for grandmas, right? And old tennis players? Eff.
Whatever, doc said it’s a bad sprain, with a probable partial ligament tear, but it wasn’t worth an MRI, because he’d tell me the same thing, tear or not. “Here’s an air cast, here are crutches. Elevate and ice…stay off it for a week.” Sweet. Just a huge freaking hassle. Hate crap like this. Everything becomes an inconvenience. Everything. As the doc is walking away, he says, “I’m prescribing you with heavy ibuprofen and Tylenol with codeine if you need it to sleep at night” “What’s up with the super ibuprofen, doc?” “Oh, it’s just high dosage. 800mg, same as taking 4 regular 200mg” “So, why do I have to get a prescription for that… can’t I just take 4 regular ones?” “Yes“. Good talk.
Jonesy had a solid suggestion for me… knowing my place is three stories and I have two kids…
Thanks, you ass. In conclusion, I would like to share with you one of the only things I remember from high school physiology class. Well…from high school period. My teacher used to say it all the time. “Enjoy yourselves now, because once you turn thirty, your body turns to crap.” Cosign.