The last Sunday I was in Saint Louis I had errands to run. I needed face lotion, Mom wanted me to pick up a wedding present and some spices, Crystal and Amanda wanted some stuff from Trader Joe's, and the usual groceries needed to be purchased. I set the alarm, locked the front door, and was putting my glasses in my bag when I tripped, falling down the last four concrete steps on to the sidewalk.
Like any self-respecting person, I immediately looked around to determine if anyone saw me. Nope, I was all alone. I picked myself up, noting that my ankle hurt, and limped back to the house. By the time I turned off the alarm, I knew that not only had I hurt the one ankle, but also the other ankle and had scraped up both knees. After limping upstairs to the my first aid supplies, I put pressure on the bleeding and called a friend to discuss what an idiot I was.
Once the bleeding had stopped, the ice pack had been thrown in the freezer, and one ankle wrapped and braced (because who has two ankle braces? Answer: Now me), I left the house to run all the errands, adding a trip to Target for first aid supplies.
I spent the rest of the week limping around during the day, sitting with my feet up at night. I went to the Balloon Glow with some friends, and someone asked if I played roller derby, because he'd treated someone built like I am with similar injuries. I wish, I told him.
Note: It's been over a month, and while better, I'm still healing. The ankles were doing well, but something popped last week when I was cleaning out my closet in one ankle, so the brace is back on. Also, I have some very lovely scars on my knees.