After spending a few (very fun) days in Memphis with my brother, sister-in-law and nephews, the little man and I packed up Thursday morning and drove over to Jackson, Tennessee to see our friends the Cottrells. We initially thought that we would hang out for a little bit at their house and then head home later in the day, but of course that didn’t happen because, well, we talk too much. So we decided to stick around for supper, spend the night, and then drive home early Friday morning. It was a perfectly delightful plan.
After supper we went back to the house, put on pajamas, and settled in for some visitin’. I don’t remember where we were in our conversation – somewhere between the meanings of people’s names and who is currently kicking our tails at Words With Friends – but at one point I realized that I’d forgotten to get something out of the car, so I ran back to the bedroom, grabbed my keys and clicked the “unlock” button as I walked toward the front door. I turned on the porch light because it was pitch-black outside, and I silently commended myself for not trying to make my way to my car in the dark.
The whole “turning on the light” thing might not seem like a big deal to most of you, but as someone who has never met an object she couldn’t trip over or smash into, I am keenly aware of the importance of well-lit surroundings. I can’t even tell you how many literal and figurative obstacles have been strewn along the path to grace and poise in my life. There was that hole in the hook rug that interfered with my back somersault when I was five. There was that uncooperative gymnastics mat during my early-80s quest for a front handspring. There was the complete absence of upper-body strength that resulted in my 16 year-old self falling into a pond after a misguided attempt at conquering a rope swing. There were the tricky wedge sandals – coupled with an overactive yellow lab – that sent me flailing down the basement stairs back in 2001.
And in The Year of Our Lord Two Thousand Ten? There was the Cottrells’ front porch.
Honestly, I thought I was doing pretty well as I made my way out to the car this past Thursday night, but in a completely unexpected turn of events, the edge of my right flip-flop got caught on a little lip at the top of the steps, and I tripped. As you may or may not know from personal experience, if you trip at the top of a staircase, there is a very good chance indeed that you are going to fall down that staircase. And that is exactly what I proceeded to do – in what felt like slow motion – until I finally, at long and merciful last, came to very awkward stop at the bottom of the stairs. I landed on my right arm, but thanks to my left big toe – which managed to scrape its way down every single step, thus making a mockery of my OPI Parlevouz polish – I sort of skidded into my landing (which was certainly preferable to crashing into the ground after being airborn for five seconds). Granted, I was COMPLETELY MORTIFIED by my clumsiness, but I wasn’t really any worse for the wear – except for a ruined pedicure, some sah-weet pavement scrapes on my right forearm, and a very attractive gravel imprint underneath my right eye.
After I composed myself enough to stand up, I very carefully walked back inside and found a mirror so that I could see whether or not I looked like I’d been in a prizefight. About that time Travis walked back through the living room – he and Angela had been putting the kids to bed – and I guess I looked a little rattled because he stopped and tilted his head like he was wondering what was going on with me. So I said, “I fell down your front steps,” and he said, “You what?” and I said, “I was going to the car, and I fell down your steps,” and he said, “Are you okay?” and I said, “Yes, I think so, except for these scratches on my arm and my face – and the fact that the polish got scraped off my toes” and then he said, “Oh, I am so sorry!” and he tried to look very concerned as he said, “How did that happen, exactly?” and when I started to tell him we got very tickled and for the next five minutes we laughed until we could neither talk nor breathe.
Good times. Precious memories.
The next morning I was almost good as new, and after breakfast Alex and I got ready to go home. Travis wanted us to follow him to a donut shop that has what he vows and declares are the best cake donuts in the universe so that we could buy some for D. I thought it was a great idea, mainly because D was super-busy with work last week, not to mention that he is a deeply devoted fan of the cake donut and always on the look-out for excellence in the cake donut field. I totally get it because I have many of the same feelings for fried chicken.
So I zipped up the suitcase, gave Angela a hug, and when I got to the foyer Travis said, “Hey, I’ll get that” and grabbed my suitcase while he opened the front door. We were joking about the need to be abundantly and exceedingly careful given my acrobatic descent down the stairs the night before, and then I stepped onto the porch, misjudged the distance, and the next thing I knew I heard a really loud pop and felt all the blood drain from my face.
Oh yes I did.
Somehow I managed to not cry and stay calm and say, “Um, I just did something really, really, REALLY bad to my ankle, I’m not even kidding, I just really hurt my ankle, I need to sit down right now.” So I sat down and Travis called for Angela and I kept thinking about that popping sound and decided that I had never been more nauseated in my life. Travis was asking me four or nineteen questions about what they could do to help and all I could think was that he wouldn’t be quite so eager to help if he knew that I was seriously about to throw up all over his shoes.
Angela came to the rescue with a big bag of ice, and that ice is what filled me with resolve that I might be able to stand up and maybe even walk out of the Cottrells’ foyer at some point before Alex graduated from high school. After about ten minutes I discovered that I could still move my ankle, and once I stood up, I hobbled back to the bedroom so that I could rest for a little while (per Angela’s orders) and hopefully determine that I was dealing with a sprain and not a broken foot.
In the midst of all the craziness, I couldn’t help but be a teensy bit entertained by the way Angela and Travis responded. Angela was, as always, level, calm, prayerful and practical. She offered sound advice. She brought me a towel in case the ice pack got too cold against my skin. The sound of her voice made me feel like everything was going to be okay.
Travis, on the other hand, was a little more rattled by the whole ordeal. He apologized ninety-four times, never you mind that IT WASN’T EVEN REMOTELY HIS FAULT. He asked me how I was feeling every one to three and a half minutes. He sang “Froggie Went A-Courtin’” in an effort to lighten the mood. And at some point he apparently called the donut shop, because I have a very vivid memory of him walking toward me and saying, “Really, I don’t want you to worry about the fact that we didn’t make it to the donut shop, because I just called them and they don’t even have any of the cake donuts today.”
PERFECT. Because do you know what was just bothering me to no end in light of my ever-swelling ankle? THE CAKE DONUTS.
Oh, bless him.
I ended up falling asleep for an hour or so, and the nausea was gone for the most part when I woke up. Since I had pretty good back and forth movement in my ankle, I decided that it made sense to go ahead and drive home before the swelling got worse. We had a mercifully uneventful trip home, and once I got in the house and elevated my foot and surveyed the damage for the first time in a few hours, I felt a little queasy again.
Clearly it was healing just beautifully.
But now? It’s so much better. I’ve had my foot propped up for the better part of three days, and I think I’m on the road to recovery.
Thankfully the road to recovery – at least so far – seems to be free of any stairs and/or steps.
My ankles and I are understandably grateful.
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Oh, mercy! Hope you are feeling better. And the flip flops are adorable, if it’s any consolation.
I hope your ankle gets better soon. With that popping sound, are you sure it was just a sprain? Let us know as you get better!
Oh I have the same grace gene : ) We just had some knives sharpened and my husband says its only a matter of time before we’re at the ER re-attaching one of my digits.
Hope you are feeling better…a pop doesn’t sound good. Three days is a long time to still have that sort of swelling. Take care!
NO WAY. Omigosh, that sounds like something I would do. I have a mortifying story of the summer I came home from college and as soon as the church service was over, I ran up on the platform to see my old choir teacher, tripped up the stairs, twisted my ankle, and totally landed on my bent leg. Graceful, I am not.
In other words, I can so totally relate to your story! :-) Glad you’re home safe and sound.
First I laughed until I had no breath. Then I saw the picture and felt a wee bit nauseated myself.
I think that you need a band of men to carry you around and feed you grapes, fan you with palms and keep your feet from hitting the floor. Obviously, God never intended you to use those feet for anything other than painting the pretty nails at the ends of your toes.
Oh. My. Word! Hilarious, but not so much. I did the same thing to my left ankle (and have a scarily similar picture to prove it) exactly a year ago. Except I wasn’t at the Cottrells. I was starting down a 2 mile hike from a mountain to our car. Key Word = STARTING — meaning it was 2 stinkin’ miles to my car AND I was at the TOP of a mountain!
According to the park ranger who walked up not 15 seconds after I heard the loud pop, I had two options:
1. Walk down on my own
2. Go down the mountain the way they take tranquilized bears down the mountain (I’m not making this up) – on a gurney that resembled a wooden board mounted atop two wheelbarrows.
Then I kindly asked the nice park ranger, who was wearing a tranquilizer gun on his left shoulder, where he was going. He said, “To go up and find this bear that has been stealing backpacks at the waterfall you just left and then I’ll have to bring him down on the gurney I was going to use to get you off this mountain.”
To that I said, “Carry on and godspeed.”
And I walked down the stinkin’ mountain.
Thankfully, my Opi “Nice Color, Eh?” was still intact, protected by my hiking shoes.
Cold compresses until any bruising and swelling is gone and then heat. Those ankle braces from the Walgreens work nicely to support it for a few weeks, too! Although they don’t look to fancy with flip flops.
Feel better, friend!!
Blessings,
Dori
Sophie
Oh bless your graceful heart!!!
I am so sorry that happened and even more sorry that I giggled throughout this post
I could visualize the whole ordeal and since I am a bit graceful myself it was definitely something I would have done!
Girl I hope you are planning to get your ankle checked out b.c it looks awful
I wish I was there so I could bring you something yummy and maybe a good chick flick :)
Much love
This is the second account I’ve read this morning of one of my bloggy friends spraining their ankle. The other lady sprained both! Enjoy the laying around with the foot propped up. Eat some bon-bons for me.
Took one look at that picture and all I could say to myself was “ouch”!!!! Glad it’s doing better!!! :)
Poor thing! That looks painful!!!You should get an xray b/c there are like 100 bones in the foor or something like that.
At least you didn’t land under their Christmas tree!
Bless your heart! Though I’m laughing at your description of Travis’ reaction. :)
I can relate to all of this. I, too, am extremely graceful. I’m always complimented on my ballerina-esque moves. lol In high school, we were on our way to church camp and stopped to spend the night at another church on the way. This church had a stage at one end of their gym, so we all set up our sleeping bags to camp out there for the night. The stage was pretty high off the ground, so I decided, rather than jumping from the stage onto the gym floor where I would certainly break my neck, I would make my way through the backstage area and down the stairs. Unfortunately there weren’t any lights on back there. I fell down the entire flight of stairs and smacked my face into the wall at the foot of the stairs. I also badly sprained my ankle. So I got to spend the week at church camp with a sprained ankle, an ace bandage and one crutch that the infirmary had available. It was truly a highlight of my life to this day.
Oh my heavens, I tried so very, very hard not to laugh out loud at your terrible plight…for one reason because that’s just mean, but for another I’m at the coffee shop surrounded by very respectable people who wouldn’t understand a sudden burst of cackling.
The only reason I feel I can laugh is because I myself have had pa-lenty of falling escapades in my day. My favorite memory is in college, as we were walking toward the Beta house full of cute boys. I walked toward the house, tripped over a rock, and proceeded to fall literally head over heels in a circle down the gentle, green slope. It felt like slow motion, and I was acutely aware of the sounds coming out of my mouth as I rolled, “eee, oooh, ahhh.” Since this was just one of many falls, my friends gathered around to make sure I wasn’t dead. As soon as they saw I was going to make it, they laughed their pretty coiffed little heads off. I picked myself up, grass stains on my ivory jeans (really, ivory) and walked into the Beta house and asked for a beer.
Good times.
In the words of my Mamaw, Bless your time!! If I lived closer, I would be pulling up in your driveway this very minute with a platter of fried chicken.( Minus a wing or two that I had eaten on the way, because who on Earth could be in a car with a platter of fried chicken and not eat a wing?) I hope you heal up fast! Stein Mart will be sending you a get well card, I am sure! I recently had surgery and my favorite resale shop in Greenville sent me a get well card. I ask you, what does that say? That we are so well mannered in Mississippi or that I may have an addiction in that shop?
OH my. I cannot even tell you how many times in my life each of my ankles have looked the exact same way yours looks in the picture. I have the weakest ankles on the planet coupled with the grace of a drunk hippopotamus which makes for a lot of sprained ankles. You take GOOD care of that ankle, my friend! I am sending a prayer up for a quick recovery and no repeat incidents. The donut shop sounds heavenly. By the way.
Seriously- parallel lives. I sprained my ankle Wednesday night while running- not nearly as bad as yours though. I have to tell you I laughed hard and long at this post. I’m sorry- I really am- for your pain, but oh my word there’s nothing I love more than a personal injury story.
You know the Lord works in mysterious ways …….. With an ankle like that, no Jillian 30 Day Shred DVD for you. : )
Oh Sophie, that is both the saddest and funniest thing ever!
I’m so sorry you endured that! And that I might’ve giggled. NOT at your awful misfortune! It’s just that we have been talking quite a bit around here about how we are not so graceful.
The least graceful of all? Would be my little Sophie. Not quite four. And I’m seriously thinking much of her falling 39 or 700 times a day, running into things, tripping over air, etc, may not be simply her youthfulness, but possibly her eyesight.
It’s crazy. Yes, I generally gain one to five bruises weekly because I bustle around at 90 miles an hour at whatever I am doing. My 17-year-old is much the same.
Sophie, on the other hand–inSANE! She walks through the french doors from my bathroom smack dab into my bedpost. The post that’s been there forever.
So I can relate. Hope you’re feeling better. Tread softly and slowly, my friend. ;)
Sophie, HAVE YOU BEEN TO THE DOCTOR YET? Oh my word! That looks so painful! I hope you feel completely healed soon.
Oh my goodness! I hate to see you in pain, but I’m thankful the fall didn’t do any damage to your sense of humor? Do you think a Boberry Biscuit and a Diet Coke would help you feel better?!
Girl…I’m picturing the whole thing and my heart is racing and i’m worried sick by the end of the story. And no kidding…Do-Dah’s donuts are TODIEFOR. I’m so sad over you missing that piece of heaven.
Take care. Come back. Stay at my house. ;)
Without a doubt, that has GOT to be the funniest post since you wrote about those holy e-mail closings and whathaveyou.
Sweet merciful heavens, Sophie – that was both a delightfully amusing and painful post. I, too, have had some unfortunate incidents of this type but none tops my grandmother’s fall in the middle of the small town in which I grew up in. It happened during the town festival, mind you, while all of my ‘tween and teenage friends were watching. She wallowed around in the street for upwards of 10 minutes and then spent 2 days in our guest room moaning about the “extreme and unrelenting pain.”
Praying you and your ankle feel much, MUCH better very soon. :-)
That HURRRRTS!!!!! I hope you feel better soon. When you do decide to walk on it, wrap it tightly. I feel down the stairs and broke many a bone in my foot (had no idea how many bones are in the human foot) when my eldest was 8 months old. Humbling to say the least but it can always be worse, right? Hang to tough!!! P.S. The Men Tell All should at least provide some amusement tonight. ; )
Yikes! That looks pretty painful, but made for a funny story! Is it wierd, by the way, that I got all thrilled that you were in Jackson (which is about 30 min. north of me)? Happy healing…
The worst part is that when you are with others you cannot- cry, say some bad words, nor engage in full blown pity of “I MAY NEVER WALK AGAIN!!”
Sorry.
Oh my word! Your poor ankle!
Oh, sister…I know that popping sound.
Would you hate me if I told you that I laughed hysterically for most of your post? Well, I laughed until I saw that picture of your ankle and then I felt naseauted too!
I hope you are feeling better soon!
Bless your heart!!
I am so very sorry!! At least you have a wonderfully re-decorated bedroom to recover in! Rest, rest rest!!
No more cake donuts? That is the saddest story I have ever heard!
Oh wait, and that part about your ankle. That’s a bummer too. (Although if you squint, your ankle kinda looks like it’s wearing a cake donut inside your skin…not helping? Sorry).
Anyway, I hope you feel better soon. Sometimes sprains are worse than when they’re actually broken. Rest, ice, compress and elevate! (And maybe mention the name of that donut shop if you get a chance? Since you’re just laying around with your foot in the air? I’m always looking for a good cake donut).
you’re much braver than I.
I’m certain I’d have gotten an x-ray after hearing an audible pop!
I was laughing so hard at your description of the first fall that I still had tears in my eyes when it got to the second part.
I’m so sorry to hear of this! and without even one of Travis’ cake donuts for your pain? Travesty. (no pun intended)
O MY WORD. If I was a bettin woman, I would bet that Travis’s house is cursed. Must be from all the sweater vests. And yes, you may tell him I said that.
And not to rain on your already swollen parade, but you completely forgot to mention the daring bit of acrobatics you displayed at your house during the Trent Monk-a-palooza as you fell UP your stairs and into your front door. Oh, the funny. You’re welcome for bringing that back up. :)
Bless your heart … and I mean that sincerly!
If it makes you feel any better, one time in college I fell up (that’s right, up)the stairs three times in one day. And, yes, I was sober.
So very sorry…at least the Bachelorette comes on tonight so you can prop and watch.
Well boo, mama.
That looks like it hurts.
On the upside, your flip-flop is adorable.
Heel quickly.
(I am so punny!)
My nick name growing up was grace…and NOT because i was fellied with it. I did the exact same thing you did last March stepping onto my OWN proch. I didn’t hear a po but a grunch. I fell down and was screaming…in fornt of my son…not my finest moment. After a while i too realized I could move my ankle and walk. Over the next few days it turnd all kind of shades purle, blue and green and sweeled to old lady porpotions….Fun times.
Glad you’re on the mend and had such lovely folks around to care for you.
Oh, I feel your pain. Really I do. You see there was the time when I spent my first high school homecoming in a cast because of a badly sprained ankle. You ain’t seen a Roaring Twenties flapper till you’ve seen one with bright blue fiberglass wrapped around her leg.
Then there was the time I sprained my ankle stepping in a hole, just to sprain THE OTHER ONE stepping in a completely different whole three days later.
Oh, yea, then there was the time I broke my ankle while on vacation and had to be driven 7 hours home laying in the way back of an SUV with the three Boxer Babes (approx 150 pounds of dog altogether) in order to have a plate, six screws and a tether thingy surgically implanted in said ankle.
We are definitely kindred spirits on the clumsy front!
DAD-GUM-IT. Robyn beat me to the Trent Monk-a-palooza (ROFLOL) debacle. :D :D :D
Giiiiirl, sorry to go all “mama” on ya, but SERIOUSLY, you should get that checked still. Matt Davis is an orthopedic doc that we know personally and he’s not far from you at all. He’ll take good care of you if you don’t already know of someone.
https://mattdavisortho.com/Home_Page.html
Girl, bless your heart. I can so feel your pain…I actually dislocated my knee-cap in the 8th grade…while bowling. In case you weren’t aware- bowling is actually a non-contact sport. Just thought I’d clarify.
Hope you’re feeling better!
travis is the worship pastor at my in-laws church! i keep wanting to go up to him when we are in town and tell him that i “know” ya’ll (you and melanie) but since i don’t actually know ya’ll in real life i feel a little embarrassed, like maybe it is just too much to explain anyway.
my husband’s hometown is jackson, tennessee but we haven’t been invited to try the fabulous cake donut yet…i think they are holding out on us!
From someone who dislocates her knee, and has to pop it back in herself about 3x a year- ONLY AT SCHOOL EVENTS (I’m a teacher) and struggles not to vomit each and every time in front of the children- I FEEL YOUR PAIN. Bless you woman, that ankle has it’s own zipcode.
ok. almost barfed just reading there was a popping sound involved. thnanks ;)
I can assure you if it was broke you would NOT have been able to walk on that foot.
I LOVE your writing! I feel so bad for you but I am laughing/crying because your descriptions are sooooo funny! Praying for a quick recovery!
Blessings!
Oh, my. I fractured my ankle in 3 places last February after stepping off a curb, so I got nauseated for you during that description! I do hope you are all healed soon!!
Laughed until I cried. I hope you understand. And I am glad that you are healing.
Um, try that in a brightly-lit gym with 750 of your closest friends who are teenagers at church camp. Oh yes I did. Last week. A dramatic, slow-motion fall down some bleachers, banging my shin and hitting my head on the handrail for good measure. I was mainly bruised, but since it was church camp and I stayed on my feet, my shin turned green and purply then my ankle became a cankle (and they aren’t that dainty to begin with) and then my FOOT turned purple. Like an old lady foot. Sheesh. All that to say, I feel your pain, sweetie.
If you need any lessons on Acrobatics with Crutches, I’m your gal.
I hope you’re up and around soon, sweet girl! :)
First, I am so sorry that happened. Very, very sorry.
Second … please tell me you are going to the dr. It looks awful.
Third … while you are on the disabled list, PLEASE, write a book. Because reading that was one of THE funniest things I have ever read. Only truly hysterical people can making falling down sound so good.
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