Helpless on Broketoe Mountain

Some call it a comedy of errors. You know, when things start happening to you, one after the other, as if they were connected and you laugh a little at your luck. Mine started when I slammed my small toe on my right foot into the corner of a wall. It didn't hurt at first. In fact, as slamming toes goes, it felt minor. "Okay," I thought, "it's not that bad" and then I felt a twinge of pain. It wasn't overwhelming pain. It wasn't pain that signified anything different than the usual, "Damn, I slammed my toe into the wall."

So, I got on my bike, rode the 5 miles to school, felt the ache in my toe, but never really suspected that I'd find the swollen purple and red knob that I did when I went to change my shoes at work.

I broke my toe.

As the day progressed, the pain and swelling increase proportionately. By 5, when I'd finally finished up my last parent-teacher conference, I tried calling Ann to get a ride home. "Can I ride my bike?" I kept asking myself. "Hell, yeah," I thought. "I rode to work and that was mostly uphill. I'll be fine." Ann wasn't home. She wasn't at school. I needed to ride if I wanted to get home at a reasonable hour.

I took off my shoes carefully, changed into my cycling gear, and gingerly put on my cycling shoes. Ouch! They're more narrow at the toe than the shoes I wear at school. Ouch!

"But I'll be fine, I'll be fine. It's mostly downhill. Hardly any pedaling until I get close to home."

I have bike shoes that clip right into the pedal. It requires a bit of pressure to lock them in and then a twist of my foot to the right to release them, all of which was uncomfortable, to say the least, and downright painful when I came to stop lights. Normally, habitually, I release my right foot and set it to rest on the pavement. But that hurt like hell so I thought I'd try my left foot.

I almost broke the rest of the bones in my body trying to manuver my left foot out of the release.

And I never realized how often I standup on my pedals to pull me up a hill or move me through an intersection a little faster. Standing? Broken toe. No can do...though I kept doing it.

Old habits die hard.

Just sit in the saddle. Downshift. Don't stand.

Stick to releasing your right foot...just try not to stop so much (it became like a mantra)

And then the last hill up to the house. It takes about 5 minutes. Not long. Except when every time you push on the pedal it hurts. I usually stand up. Not this time.

"I'll just walk my bike." A quick, quick thought instantly cancelled out by "It hurts more to walk than ride." So I slipped into a lower gear and just pushed and pushed up the hill. At home it was an ice pack and fried chicken with scalloped potatoes (comfort food for my uncomfortable foot!).

Today, 36 hours later, it's still throbbing, it's still swollen, and now the purple and burgundy blossom of the injury has spread from the toe into the rest of my foot. Ice, elevation, and anti-inflammatories all day. I walk like a character from some monster movie. Possessed.

Now I'm dependent on Ann for silly little things I've always done for myself.

And I hate it.

She'd argue that I'm not completely dependent on her. I get up all the time and do stuff that she should probably do for me. Every time I ask for something -- a glass of water, the volume on the stereo turned up or down, an ice-pack to wrap on my foot -- I always say "please" followed by a quick "I'm sorry."

I hate being taken care of. Worse, I hate being incapacitated in any way. This is completely debilitating because I can't do the things I normally love to do on a Saturday.

So much for a bike ride. So much for walking the dog. So much for going for a long run just as the sun goes down. So much for just about anything physical.

When we got up this morning, we planned our day around a bunch of errands we never have time to do during the week. I needed to stop by school. I needed to make it to my hair appointment (which I usually ride my bike to, had actually planned on riding my bike to, but it was raining...again...and we decided to drive...but Ann had to drive since it hurts to hold my foot against the gas pedal).

There was a stop at the Post Office. A stop by the house to take pictures of the latest progress on the house. Another stop to print out remodeling pictures at the drugstore. Lunch (which required a long walk from the parked car to the Greek restaurant). A stop at Dusty Strings for some music. The haircut at the end of the day.

As we prepared for the errands, I reached into my school bag for my school keys and my wallet.

They weren't there.

In my pain last night, in my attempt to be delicate with my toe, I'd put all my school clothes into the clothes box I take to work every Sunday so I don't have carry all my clothes for each day on my bike. In the pocket of my pants sat my wallet and my school keys.

I could neither get into the school to get my clothes, nor could I get my wallet to pay for my haircut or anything else I might need that day.

It may seem like nothing. It may seem like a minor bump in the road, but my awareness of my "dependency" became so clear at that moment I had to sit down and just let it sink in for a minute. I was helpless. I didn't even have ID to prove I was the gimp hobbling down the street.

My stomach burned.

More than my broken toe.

Ann laughed. "I'm loving this," she chuckled. "You are now dependent on me and there's not much you can do about it. Ha!"

Comedy of errors? To me it felt like a slice to my thin ego. Slash! Helpless, helpless, helpless.

Some people say that things happen for a reason. Some days I believe them. Other days I don't. Overall, I think "evil" happens because it's evil, not because of some big cosmic plan.

Breaking my toe isn't evil. Breaking my toe is inconvenient. Breaking my toe is annoying.

And so, perhaps, it is a cosmic plan to get me to lighten up a bit and just let someone take care of me for a change.

But I can't do it.

Well, I can, but it's damn hard and it's always filled with "I'm sorrys" to the point where I even irritate the hell out myself.

I have no patience. I want the toe to be healed (no pun intended) by tomorrow.

I'm riding my bike on Monday (the only day for a month that they are actually predicting SUNSHINE).

Broken toe or no broken toe.

"Hey, Ann" I'll say softly into the phone Monday afternoon..."can I get a ride home, please? Sorry."