I sprained my ankle in the most spectacular style. I was engaging in sports activities - so unfair. Sport is supposed to be good for the body. I was playing netball, minding my own business when my ankle joint decided, for no good reason, to roll out to the side, thus robbing me of my balance. I then fell with a considerable proportion of my weight on the popped-out joint. I heard a sickening cracking and crunching sound and then came the PAIN. I had to be lifted off the pitch, and was in so much pain I threw up, then went into shock and began shaking uncontrollably. There followed a thoroughly melodramatic trip to A&E - I will never forget hopping and hyperventilating at the same time, pausing to raggedly draw breath and cry simultaneously - god I must have looked pathetic. Then there was the interminable wait, then the X-ray, then being told it wasn't broken, then being so relieved at the fact it wasn't broken that I almost convinced myself it wouldn't hurt - ha. So two weeks on crutches, an ankle that is no longer an ankle, more of a cankle, if you will - it was at least three times the size of my regular ankle. Poor Kate Thornton - she looks like that all the time, and she hasn't got a neck either. The bruising was so impressive I took photos. Yes, really.
To coincide with all of this, I managed to get several dates at once via my new online dating project. Brilliant timing, as per (more of this in the next post, I promise]. All this was three weeks ago, and whilst the bruising has gone down, it is still ENORMOUS, and hurts like a BITCH.
Well, that's it for now - look out for the next post where being ridiculously, unstoppably, unerringly polite at all times gets me into all sorts of trouble.
