A Fractured Not-So-Fairy Tale

That's not a parrot in my hand. It's my other shoe.

I'm not even sure what happened.

I noticed some swelling and sensitivity on the squishy part of my foot under my left pinky toe.

When was this? Wednesday? Thursday?

Then on Friday, I stubbed my toe on my desk chair.

OUCH. 

But I had things to do, places to be. A friend who lives in Greece was meeting me at 3, and I had to stop by the old office before then to see a box of magazines that had shown up in the mail (I'd supplied the cover), then I had a ticket to a New Yorker Festival Event. Jonathan Lethem was being joined by Junot Diaz, who I had been somewhat interested in seeing speak when I was in Bali, but then I'd been working on a different panel that took place simultaneously. That was okay—I've never actually read his books. But the twofer-one deal was appealing.

So I scampered all over town on Friday night. My food was a bit sore, and by the time I got home, a lot more sore. But I didn't think much of it.

Until I woke up in excruciating pain in the middle of the night.

The swelling didn't go down on Saturday, though I was able to hobble out of the house to the car and go to the supermarket. Which was good since after that, I couldn't hobble much of anywhere.

Roberta recommended a podiatrist by the post office—"He even has a parking lot"—so I dragged my bum foot along behind me to the car, then out of the car to the office.

And look what I have now. An awesome space boot.

I get to wear it for a month.

And because I don't do things small, I have two, count 'em, two fractures.

Those are bone flakes, apparently.

"See it? Right there." "Uh, really?" "Yes, you don't see it?"
"Um...."