A Different Kind of Workday Break...

In case you haven't noticed yet, I have a knack for hurting myself--and usually out of my own carelessness.

To emphasize my point, I wish I had a cool story as to why there is a scar on my foot, but instead it's summed up in this simple two word phrase: I tripped. If I were cleverer, I would probably make up a really cool story as to how it happened. Something like, "I was chasing the bear who stole my picnic basket, and, when I finally caught up to him, I decided to fight him with my own bare hands. Then, in one, swift stroke, he took his front claw and sliced open my foot, forever haunting me with this jagged scar." Hmm. Maybe I'll start telling people that's what happened...

I'm still the only person from my high school to be injured during both an academic challenge tournament and a speech tournament-and each time I left the classroom bleeding. When I asked my instructor at speech camp what she would have done if she'd injured herself during her performance, she said she would have excused herself and left. On the contrary, I had decided to continue performing and left the stage bleeding from an over-dramatic cut that I'd accidentally received while playing the part of a confused Home Depot customer.

So when I broke my toe during my cushy office job last Thursday, it really came as no surprise. For me, it's perfectly natural to trip over the leg of a couch while hearing a loud "CRACK!" come from the direction of my foot during an eight hour shift requiring no physical effort on my part.

Refusing to accept my injury as serious, I tried walking on it (rather unsuccessfully) for a day and a half before deciding that maybe I should get a professional diagnosis instead. Because Baldwin, the school clinic, is closed during the summer, I had to go to a local hospital-type place called Medicus. Medicus is kind of like a doctor's office with no appointment necessary, but for less serious injuries than a hospital; in other words, a good place for a foot injury. My doctor at Medicus was a witty, monotone man that kind of creeped me out, but enjoyed my sense of humor about the whole foot situation. He sent me for x-rays (which was a really cool experience in my opinion), then tested my Vassar education by asking me to identify the injury.

"Looks like nothing's wrong to me," I said after briefly glancing at the x-ray in disbelief.

"Are you sure that your eyeglass's prescription is still good?" The doctor asked me, his voice dripping in sarcasm, "Don't you see the break?!"

Oh, right. And there it was-a solid black line running diagonally across my smallest toe. How could I have missed that?

He explained to me that I had an Oblique Fracture, and having never experienced a broken bone before, I got pretty excited and asked him what restrictions he was giving me. But apparently broken toes don't call for restrictions. Casually explaining that toes are pretty trivial appendages, and, after I questioned him about possible, ridiculous scenarios, he explained that, yes, I could even go running if I wanted to, which kind of broke my heart. If I’m going to break something, it might as well be dramatic, right? Alas, just another boring injury with a sub-par story.