This morning, I was minding my own business in the basement, working away at my desk while Sophie was hiding underneath it because of the cleaning people, whom Sophie is afraid of, were busy upstairs. I was trying to settle in to a day of getting caught up on various projects. While sorting through various blog readings, I heard the distinctive noise of Annette and crashing bottles, followed shortly by her obviously crying out in pain.
Basically, what happened was she was taking out trash and bottles out to the garage, something that she’s done 1,000 times before, when she tripped and fell on the steps out the back door. Now, I’ve tripped on these steps before myself– even fell. The steps are kind of crooked and cock-eyed. But this time, Annette somehow managed to trip and fall and twist her whole leg under her. “God DAMN it!” she yelled,” which immediately attracted the attention of our nice but very religious neighbor.
When I came out, she was on the ground and certainly not happy about it. At first, I thought she had hurt her back or something, largely because of the way she was laying there and also because it just seemed to me that hurting her back was more likely. But no, it was her knee and leg and ankle.
So, after a small conference between myself, the cleaning ladies, and our religious neighbor, Annette and I were off to the emergency room. Fortunately, especially in light of recent news stories about how ill-prepared the US emergency rooms are, things weren’t that busy and Annette got cared for quickly. Ultimately, the verdict was not a break but a badly sprained leg– not just a kneee, not just an ankle, the whole damn leg.
They put on this strange quickly hardening cast thing and wrapped it all up so she has, basically, a “half cast,” which she’ll have for about a week. Ah yes, the fun of showering with a bag on your leg.
Here’s a picture of the damage:
She’s obviously unhappy and in pain about all of this, but I’m guessing that by the end of this week or so, she’ll be okay. It has already required quite a bit of rescheduling of various events both present (including a Steve visit to her graduate class– what a hoot) and near future (Annette will now be accompanying Will and me for a family trip to Wisconsin this weekend since it’s clear that she’s not going to be able to take care of herself with this thing).
And for me, it’s required many errands and some nursing. For example, while Annette was being x-rayed, I was trying to hunt down some crutches. I ask my honey what she wants for dinner, and when she says “lasagna,” I spring into action. And don’t get me started with dealing with dog care for the weekend, car repair, transportation for Will, etc., etc.
But even though it’s my blog, it’s still about Annette here. For example, take a look at this card from Will– click on the images to get some more details:
Follow the links– they are worth it.
Anyway, get well Annette!
10 thoughts on “Annette’s broken (okay, sprained) leg”
Poor Annette!! Let me know if I can help at all- that just looks miserable!!
Stacey and I drove past your house yesterday and we saw you and Annette on your porch. It looked like you were prehaps returning from somewhere.
“There’s Steve and Annette,” I said, “and Annette is on crutches.”
Stacey said, “I hope that wasn’t a result of wearing the red bustier she got from the Naked Lady party.”
Tell Annette we both wish her well and hope she heals quickly. Feel free to give me a shout if you need further trash removal or any other general-labor service.
We may need pictures of her on crutches and wearing the red bustier. It’d be a great foray into Half Nekkid Thursday!
Yeah, good luck with that….
Oh my! I *wish* I had injured myself doing something that involved the red bustier! :-) Thanks for the well wishes and offers for help. –Annette
Bustier injuries would be embarasing though. Like the guy who was dressed like Batman and hit his head on the ceiling fan while his wife was handcuffed to the bed a couple years ago. He was out cold and she couldn’t do anything about it. Those really aren’t the injuries you want.
And Steve… I’m keeping my fingers crossed.
There you go, Andre, spreading urban legends again.