DISCLAIMER: This entry is not for the faint of heart….
So, ARCTIC BLAST 2008 lasted way longer than I hoped it would. It basically lasted two weeks. Week one, the snow was pretty powdery, and it didn’t really get too icy because it was really sub-freezing the entire time. Wait, what am I saying?? It was icy. And the snow stuck. But it was under control. I could get to work for a few days, and all was semi-okay with the world.
Then, during Christmas week, it got worse, x100. Literally. This HUGE snow storm left about a foot and a half of snow at our house, which, coincidentally, is in the middle of the city. Actually, what happened was that it snowed about eight inches, rained and froze about an inch or so of ice, then snowed another foot several inches on top, followed by another layer of ice.
It wasn’t pretty.
And, you know, I can take the criticism of Oregonians…that they supposedly can’t handle the it, and life stands still, but the thing is…we deal in RAIN. Hydroplaning is our specialty. We regularly change our windsheild wipers. We do NOT do frozen. Sorry!
That said, I was pretty much completely snowed in last week. My dad shoveled the sidewalks, but I basically couldn’t get my car out of the driveway. And even if I could, my poor Merlino would have acted like a frickin’ plow because the snow was so deep. SUVs and 4-wheel drives and chains ventured down my street, and constantly slipped and slided and almost hit stuff. I was NOT driving in it.
So then Tuesday before Christmas comes and my BFF calls me asking if I wanted to beat the cabin fever and go shopping with her (and her dad, who is from Alaska and bends the snow to his will whilst driving). OF COURSE I said yes. When she comes to pick me up, I take off. And granted, since I am clearly a fashionable Portlander, I do not have gear suitable for the snow. Lightweight jeans, Danskos, and a pea coat had to do it.
As soon as I get to the street, which isn’t necessarily pure ice, but snow and ice packed tightly together and very slick, I totally fall down, twist my ankle, and land right on top of my foot. Determined to grin and bear it, I let them drive me for a few blocks before I ask them kindly to turn around.
The next few days involved my foot on pillows with lots of ice. And since we didn’t have crutches, my family thought it would be hilarious to make me hobble around with a walking stick I made in Girl Scouts. No joke.
Until one day, my mom’s friend came over. She had recently had foot surgery, and suggested I try out her space-age boot that would secure my foot and make me feel much better. At first I resisted, but then she brought it over, and my foot immediately felt better. And let’s face it: It has Air Jordan pumping action to ensure a nice and snug fit.
Except it kept on bruising (all around my toes and even on my sole…let’s face it: it looked dead!), and the swelling wouldn’t go down. So today I finally gave in, left work early, and went to the doctor to see if it was broken. After a long debacle that involved several trips to the doctor and then the X-ray lab, they determined that my foot was not broken, but that I had done something to my tendons. And apparently, sprains like this take longer to heal than breaks. Not…okay.
So, my recommendation was to wear the boot for another week, and then transition to shoes wearing a post-surgical sock to help keep the swelling down. I look like a total dork hobbling around in the boot, but it feels a little better.
However, laying in weird positions with pillows and the fall exacerbated what I’m pretty sure (like 99% sure) is a broken coccyx, which happened a few weeks ago when I was roller skating and fell flat on my ass. Nice.
I…am such…an invalid. Boo!
I swear I’ll be wearing stilettos in half the time. Right?