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In which MM has a slight slip-up on her way down the stairs and winds up signalling for a left-hand turn with her foot.

Here’s how it happened:  I was just going downstairs to take a shower, in preparation for going to see the brand new ballet, Tom Sawyer at the glorious new Kauffman Center For the Performing Arts.  I had been looking forward to this event since arriving in Kansas City.  It was guaranteed to be a wonderful day. So you can imagine my chagrin when I had a little slip on the stairs.  The first thing i noticed was that it hurt somewhat more than these little trips usually do.  The second thing I noticed, once I got myself twisted around to have a look, was that My Left Foot was perpendicular, as in 90 degrees from where it normally sits.  Hence, the left tun signal analogy.  Actually, it’s rather a sickening sight.  Worse, I think, than if it had been bloody. It looked so…unnatural, whereas blood is totally ordinary.  But, thankfully, this at least didn’t make a mess on the carpet.  Nor, for that matter, did I.

Well, what to do, thought I.  I didn’t really know the protocols for dealing with such a thing here.  Back home I would just have called a neighbour to drive me into town for an X-ray.  I crawled back up the stairs and made my way, rather clumsily sprawled across the floor, to where Mary had thoughtfully left me a list of phone numbers of family and neighbours. But I really didn’t want to disturb a neighbour on a Sunday afternoon, did I? Mary and Tom were in the Ozarks–probably driving home now, so unable to be of help yet.  So naturally I did what anyone would do in the circumstances–I disturbed my niece, Carey (Mary & Tom’s daughter), who was in Washington DC.  Be fair, now!  I didn’t know she was in Washington.  Anyway, Carey managed to sort everything out just fine, and the little twinkling stars in my head eventually went away. A little while later the Cavalry arrived, in the form of Brian (Carey’s brother/my nephew) and Lester, a friend and retired GP, who wrapped  and stabilised the ankle until I got to the Emergency Room.

All in all, i think everything was handled with utmost efficiency, by family and friend, and by the personnel at the Olathe Medical Center.  Even to ensuring that no ticket to the Ballet was wasted.  Those of you who have been with me for a while may have picked up on the notion that I’m not very good at “Doing What I’m Told.”  I don’t take direction well.  I’m trying hard to make an exception this time.  I have managed to stuff up so many peoples plans and routines already, that I positively have to do things right in order to regain my independence and free others from having to worry about me.  You read it here, folks: I positively have to do things right this time.      

I had surgery the following day. I’M told that I did a pretty comprehensive number on the ankle– the number being three…as in, three bones broken.  (I’m nothing if not thorough, folks) Now I’m confined to the recliner, with limited trips to the loo (Make ’em count!)  Mary has just come home with some clothes that will go over my new ski boot…and a shower chair.  It was either that or sit out on the lawn and be hosed off.