The foot bone’s connected to the … whoops!

Tim is away until tomorrow, which left me without feelings of guilt for being out a good deal. Last evening, I had a meeting in regard to the impending creating of a Multi-Academy Trust of three high schools, one of which is the one I still call ‘mine.’

The meeting itself, which was really for the benefit of those governors who are remaining a governor of their particular school but not getting involved with the others, was a success. My entry to the building went less well. It was at a hotel/conference centre/health’n’beauty spa/golf course and I went into reception to find the way to our room. So I was able to gather a little group of people and show them the way. Unfortunately, and I have no idea how I managed it, I stumbled on nothing at one point and went over quite hard on my left foot. It was probably very much the movement, though lower down, that did in Eloise cat’s knee. As my foot twisted, I heard a squelchy crunch, unlike anything I’d come across before.

“Excuse me if I hobble for a while,” I said and everyone politely pretended not to worry until they forgot about it, six or seven seconds later. I was wearing fairly substantially strapped sandals, so hoped that would stop the foot swelling to the point I couldn’t walk.

When I got home, I supped on a glass of wine and some toast and Marmite, as it was 9.30 and I was more tired than hungry, and then went to bed with whisky and chocolate. And some ibuprofen. And I slept well, left in good time for my next appointment, which involved a five hour round trip, and when I arrived home I realised that my foot was more swollen. So I took the advice of Facebook friends and took myself off to A&E.

In short, I’ve broken a bone in my fifth metatarsal, or little toe as we unqualified people say. It’s the last one before the actual foot bone. But it’s stable, hasn’t shifted and only needs support, not a plaster cast. I’m very lucky. As it’s my left foot and I drive an automatic, I’ve even been given the all clear for driving, which is just as well as I’d gone to hospital on my own (if they’d said I needed a cast, I’d have asked to go back the next day). I am wearing a substantial boot, strapped all about and secured with Velcro, and it’s much more comfortable to walk, though rather hot. I’m told that it’ll heal in four to six weeks, though it’ll take at least eight months for full recovery. But it could be so much worse.

Eloise cat is very much enjoying pottering around in the garden and she isn’t running and jumping yet. I think her leg still aches after a while, because she limps once she’s been out half an hour or so.

This has been two firsts for me. I’ve never been to A&E on my own account before; and I’ve never broken a bone before. It’s only a little practice bone and I didn’t actually go there as an emergency, so they were amateurish efforts, but I do my best.

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