Yesterday I stood up from the couch and headed towards the kitchen. On the way there I decided to kick the ottoman like a punter attempts a field goal from the 50 yard line. After I did that, I hopped around on my right foot and said words that made Lucy’s tail curl. Those words quickly turned into ouch, ouch, ouch, my foot, my foot, oh my god my foot.
Last night the throbbing ache made me think I’d broken a bone (but I’ve never had a broken bone so I don’t really know what that feels like). There’s only a small bruise and all my toes are in their normal configuration. So, I’ve self diagnosed myself with a sprained toe. Yes, I could make a doctor’s appointment, but where’s the fun in that?
All my plans for today have been turned into keeping my foot elevated with Lucy on my lap and a book in my hand. The occasional ice pack should round out the day.
Updated: 10/24/12
Definitely not broken, just finished walking on the treadmill and my toes are significantly less swollen. Just a hard bruise/jam. Thank goodness.
I’m pretty sure kicking furniture with a toe is right up there with a paper cut and and a rose thorn stuck under the skin. All are obvious at every moment of every day once they are there. So glad it’s not broken.