I broke my foot last night. I wish I could say I broke it water skiing or rock climbing, but the truth is it happened while walking the dog. Actually, I hadn’t actually started walking yet, I just stepped out the front door when it happened. Collen moved right where I was going to step, so I turned to avoid stepping on him. I caught the edge of my foot on the pavement and my weight came down on it, fracturing the base of the fifth metatarsal, a.k.a. “dancer’s fracture.”
This morning I went to the emergency room after Kristin and I decided it was more than just a sprain. The doctor took one look and said it was probably a fracture, but they’d do x-rays to be certain. He was right, and now I’m in an OCL Splint and using crutches until I see the orthopedist tomorrow. Hopefully I’ll get a removable foot-ankle brace rather than a cast, but even a walking cast would be OK if I can get rid of the crutches. Collen hates the crutches, backing away from me whenever I’m on them.
I went 35 years without any broken bones. Guess I was overdue.