adventures in ow
Mar. 24th, 2015 10:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jazzfishOn Saturday night I discovered that I tend to walk slightly on the blades of my feet. This is almost certainly doing terrible things for my posture.
I discovered this by not paying any attention to where I was going, such that I put my weight on what I thought was a sidewalk but turned out to be empty air, at the top of a short flight of steps. Near as I can reconstruct the events, my foot kept going down, and kept twisting in & down, until it made contact with the actual ground. At which point half or more of my weight came down on the side of my foot and bent the ankle in a direction it wasn't really designed for.
I give my body a lot of grief for not being up to snuff, but I will say this for it: it's got amazing ankle strength. I stumbled, but did not fall, down the four or five steps, and caught myself on a lightpost. I said "Ow" a lot in a high-pitched quiet voice and determined that I could, in fact, still put some weight on the foot. Good thing, too, since I was down at the bottom of Burrard Street and I'd just seen the bus go past.
I didn't feel like waiting the twenty minutes or so for the next bus. Instead I walked the kilometre ("half mile") or so to the Skytrain station on a turned ankle. The ankle didn't really stop hurting but I figured out how to walk to make it hurt less.
Things got interesting a couple of blocks up. It wasn't exactly a warm night but I'd been fine when I walked out the door. Now I was getting short of breath (stupid lungs) and rather chilly. And... numb? Not really what I think of as numb. No pins-and-needles, no muscles deciding not to work anymore. Just a sort of disconnected sense from my hands and feet. Foot, anyway. The injured one was very definitely still there. It didn't occur to me until the next day that I'd just been through a mild case of shock.
I would have stopped for a bit of a rest, but Burrard Street doesn't have anything useful like benches, or coffeeshops open past five, or such. I pushed through (probably not the wisest of decisions, but hey) and the weird physical effects wore off after several minutes, and I limped onto the Skytrain and came home.
I iced it good a couple of times that night and off and on Sunday. After that it seems to be done being seriously wrong now. Still hurts a bit, still a little swollen, and it's still no fun to walk further than across the apartment. But it's just soreness and stiffness, it's not "holy crap my foot is dead" pain.
So, that was an adventure.
I discovered this by not paying any attention to where I was going, such that I put my weight on what I thought was a sidewalk but turned out to be empty air, at the top of a short flight of steps. Near as I can reconstruct the events, my foot kept going down, and kept twisting in & down, until it made contact with the actual ground. At which point half or more of my weight came down on the side of my foot and bent the ankle in a direction it wasn't really designed for.
I give my body a lot of grief for not being up to snuff, but I will say this for it: it's got amazing ankle strength. I stumbled, but did not fall, down the four or five steps, and caught myself on a lightpost. I said "Ow" a lot in a high-pitched quiet voice and determined that I could, in fact, still put some weight on the foot. Good thing, too, since I was down at the bottom of Burrard Street and I'd just seen the bus go past.
I didn't feel like waiting the twenty minutes or so for the next bus. Instead I walked the kilometre ("half mile") or so to the Skytrain station on a turned ankle. The ankle didn't really stop hurting but I figured out how to walk to make it hurt less.
Things got interesting a couple of blocks up. It wasn't exactly a warm night but I'd been fine when I walked out the door. Now I was getting short of breath (stupid lungs) and rather chilly. And... numb? Not really what I think of as numb. No pins-and-needles, no muscles deciding not to work anymore. Just a sort of disconnected sense from my hands and feet. Foot, anyway. The injured one was very definitely still there. It didn't occur to me until the next day that I'd just been through a mild case of shock.
I would have stopped for a bit of a rest, but Burrard Street doesn't have anything useful like benches, or coffeeshops open past five, or such. I pushed through (probably not the wisest of decisions, but hey) and the weird physical effects wore off after several minutes, and I limped onto the Skytrain and came home.
I iced it good a couple of times that night and off and on Sunday. After that it seems to be done being seriously wrong now. Still hurts a bit, still a little swollen, and it's still no fun to walk further than across the apartment. But it's just soreness and stiffness, it's not "holy crap my foot is dead" pain.
So, that was an adventure.
no subject
Date: 2015-03-25 09:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-03-25 05:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-03-25 12:41 pm (UTC)Also - Shock is Nature's way of saying "enjoy it while you can." I'm glad you got home ok.
no subject
Date: 2015-03-25 05:08 pm (UTC)heh. In retrospect it felt more like "sure, you can push through this if you REALLY want to, but you'll be paying for it later." My stubbornness writing checks my body wasn't sure it could cash.
no subject
Date: 2015-03-25 01:22 pm (UTC)Thankful you weren't seriously hurt!
no subject
Date: 2015-03-25 05:09 pm (UTC)