The Time I Broke My Foot

I stopped at my beloved Dutch Bros one morning last week on my way to work.  There is usually only one person working at such an early hour.  When she stepped across the other side of the coffee hut (Dutch Bros are little buildings that are drive-up and/or walk-up windows only) I noticed her foot was in a big black boot.  It instantly brought back memories of when I broke my foot.

Many years ago I was a young college student who liked to go to a local bar and dance club called Hannah’s, also known as Humpin’ Hanna’s but there was never any humpin’ going on that I knew of.  My friends and I would show up early to get our drink-on and then dance away our alcohol-buzz before it was time to drive home.  My friends Colleen, Jeff, and I were at Hannah’s on the night I broke my foot.  My Great Uncle Jim used to tease me often about breaking my foot in a bar.  He seemed to get a good laugh out of that one.

Colleen and I had just exited the dance floor when a song came on that she seemed to really like.  She pulled be back towards the dance floor and as I turned I fell into the table and chairs next to me.  When I came back up on my feet I noticed some pain.  I figured I had just twisted my ankle and I should just shake it off.  So we went out to the dance floor.  While out on the crowded dance floor somebody stepped on my left foot, not once but twice, and I was in so much pain I had to go sit down.  It didn’t take long to realize I needed to go home but wasn’t going to be able to walk to my car in the parking garage.  Colleen was in no state to drive so we sent Jeff to get my car and from there I was able to drive them home before heading home myself.  Thankfully I didn’t have a stick shift at that time.  I have no idea what I would have done.

On the drive home I could tell my foot was in pretty bad shape.  I was living with my sisters and called them on my way home.  By the time I made it from my car to the door I was in tears.  We headed to the emergency room.  I found out my left foot was broken on the outer side under my little tow.  I was referred to a specialist to see if I needed surgery.  I felt really bad as I was still on my parents insurance and the cost of all the bills.

Luckily, I didn’t need surgery.  As it turns out if you are fat and un-active a foot will heal on its own.  Okay so the specialist didn’t quite use those words.  However, looking back now, 130 pounds lighter, I understand more of why surgery wasn’t really considered an option for me.  The specialist said that if I was an athlete that needed to get right back into a sport than surgery would be likely.  However, since I didn’t do much I could just rest and wait it out.  So for several weeks I was now the new owner of a big black boot that weighed a ton and wasn’t very fun with the soggy and slushy winter weather.

I wonder now what my options would have been had I been in better shape and not as heavy.  Would the specialist have recommended surgery?  Would have recovery time have been longer or shorter?  I’ll never know.  And trust me, I don’t want to know!  Breaking anything below the waist is awful.  I do know now that at least I would have been in better shape for recovery.  I also know that being un-active during recovery would be ten times more worse now. 

I am very glad I saved my parents a huge surgery bill.  I guess that is one of the few times being fat and un-active paid off.