Anyways, I was talking and looking back over my left shoulder at sad pooch and twisted my ankle on a patch of slanted grass by the walkway. More like I mangled my ankle. I think I came down on the left side of my foot so hard that I heard bones crunch. I fell down on the grass in a half summersault roll, grabbing my ankle in pain, seriously thinking I broke it. Ron hovered over me, freaking out, the look of panic in his eyes mirroring my own. I immediately flashed to the scary Indian hospital on the corner, crutches, a cast, and our trip ending in the blink of an eye.
Ron got the manager over, he took one look at me and said I was fine. Through teary eyes, I told him I heard a crunch, and he replied that if I broke a bone we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Point taken. He sprayed my ankle and foot with a numbing solution and in a few minutes I was able to get up and limp away.
I felt like I dodged a bullet, although I had to stay off my foot for a couple days, soaking it in a hot bucket of salty water and applying moove, a local pain ointment. It was sore in that tender place under the arch of my foot for almost three weeks afterwards. But we pressed on…and I regret to report, I didn’t liberate the sad, mangy dog in the corner; he’s still chained to that very spot.
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