This weekend I did something that I honestly thought I would never do. There’s been plenty of opportunity throughout my younger years, but as you grow older you tend to outgrow these types of things and I really thought that by this point in my life I’d be past the types of situations that would lead to me breaking a bone. My little toe on my right foot. It hurt. A lot. Broken. Two weeks. Before. My. Wedding.
It’s a long story, but the main point is that on Friday night I had some photographs spread out and needed to get to the other side of them quickly so I leapt over them, landing on a shoe. The only thing that ever hurt worse was the third night after I had six teeth pulled and I had to upgrade from Vicoden to Darvocet for the pain. Although I had some Vicoden on hand, I didn’t take any that night. In retrospect, knowing what I know now I would have. Although not taking anything did get me to ice my foot which I think helped a lot.
In the morning everywhere the ice wasn’t touching the night before had turned blue. It was a little sore, and I thought that it wasn’t that bad. Then I tried to stand up. That was a mistake. I managed to get a ride to urgent care (thanks Rick!) and put my newly changed insurance to use (I don’t even think I’ve had a paycheck that’s taken my insurance out yet).
And since these things take four to six weeks to heal, and my wedding is now less than two weeks away, it’s going to be an interesting reception to say the least. I think I’ll be able to manage the ceremony without too much problem. But I don’t know how I’m going to take the bounce house yet.