Broken Feet

There are times when I just really wished I was married. This is one of those times.

Why does this particular day make me long for a husband? Well, it's quite simple really. You see, on Saturday I broke my right foot.

This is not the first time I've broken a foot. Far from it, my friends. When I was in the eighth grade I broke my left foot. I was racing my brother at church. I was wearing a dress and platform shoes. I tripped, fell off my platform shoes and broken my left foot. Last December, I was walking to my first final exam of the week. It was 7:30 in the morning and my super awesome best friend and I were taking our time walking to our 8:00 am final. I stepped off of a curb and onto a rock I did not see. I rolled my left foot and broke it in the exact same place I broke it in the 8th grade. Lucky for me my super awesome best friend walked me to my first final, where I aced it, and then we went to the hospital after the three hour exam.

This Saturday I was in Colorado for a workshop. This workshop was for my research for grad school. I wish I could say that during one of our breaks we went rock climbing and I broke my foot rock climbing. However, I refused to rock climb on our break. My excuse to my friends was, "I'm the girl who breaks my foot walking. Do you really think I should rock climb?"

I wish I could say that while my friends were rock climbing, one of them fell. I, being the only one on the ground, broke their fall and in the process of saving their life broke my foot. However, if I said that I would be lying. You see I broke my right foot stepping off of a curb on the way to the last session of our workshop.

Yes, that is the second time I've broken my foot stepping off of a curb.

I did not want to ruin my friends good time and I thought it was just sprained, so we bought some crutches and I didn't go to the hospital until last night - after flying from Colorado to Atlanta and then Atlanta to Orlando. (I got to use the wheelchair service in all of those airports, which was interesting, but I would much rather have had use of both of my feet). I went to the hospital last night, straight from the airport and they told me it was broken. I thought that odd since its not very swollen and it really doesn't hurt that much, but now my foot is completely bandaged up in a splint until I go to the orthopedic surgeon tomorrow.

Now why would breaking my right foot make me want a husband? It's quite simple. I wish I had someone to take care of me, someone who loved me enough to not complain and just help me. I am currently living with my little sister. She does love me, but she doesn't really want to take care of me. She's also my little sister and doesn't really see it in her job description to take care of her big sister. But a husband would be bound by vows to take care of me, and theoretically he should love me enough to want to take care of me.

He would be here to fetch my computer for me. Instead if I need something, like a computer, I have to grab my crutches and grab my backpack. I then crutch across the house to where it is, put it in my backpack, crutch back to where I want to be, and take it out of my backpack. It's really unpleasant.

A husband could help me with meals. I could sit at the table while he brought me a bowl, cereal, and milk. Instead, I had to stand next to the fridge and eat, because I could not carry milk, a bowl, or cereal on my crutches, and milk just really doesn't do well in my backpack. Neither do ceramic bowls.

A husband could have helped my balance in the bath tub I was attempted to bathe myself. He would have been there to make sure I didn't kill myself on the slick floor. He could have washed my hair instead of me sticking my head in the sink and trying my best to get all of my hair without spraying down the entire kitchen.

Maybe I'm expecting too much of my theoretical, imaginary husband. Maybe real husbands don't do these kind of things. But my dad does these sort of things for my mom (not that my mom breaks bones. But he takes care of her well when she's sick). Maybe my theoretical, imaginary husband would actually be at work today so I would have had to do all those thing myself anyway. But I would like to think if I ever get married, it would be to a guy who would take a day off of work to take care of me until I get a boot (or cast) for my broken foot.

But I don't have a husband, and I do have to do these things for myself. When my sister is home and not in class, she can help me with the food thing, but I'm totally left on my own with the bathing and hair washing.

Well, the one good thing about this broken right foot is its forcing my still recovering left foot back into shape. The crutches are also amazing for getting upper body strength, even if they make me ache.

By the end of this, I'm going to be a pro on crutches.