LOL, I found that quote somewhere on a facebook page and had to copy and paste it to my own page, not knowing that it would some day become my personal quote.
My name is Missy and yes, alcohol played a huge part in my story that has somehow led me to this crazy diary website about, well, a broken leg.
On Thursday, October 27, I went out. I had 2 parties to go to that night. I really never get out anymore, especially after I promised my husband of 12 years that I would stop my 20'ish phase (Im 38) and start being a better wife and mom to my 3 boys. I hadn't been out in probably 9-10 months so my husband didn't give me much of a hard time about me going. He just wanted me home early. yeah, that didn't happen.
It was my friend's birthday so I met him at a bar in the town over from mine and had 2 drinks to celebrate with him. I didn't stay too long because I had another event to go to back in my town for a breast cancer fundraiser. I met another friend there and had I think 3 drinks. The 2nd event only lasted until 10:30, and to me, it was still early, so I headed back to my friends birthday party, where I had another drink.
Mind you, I was, after all, going out for the first time in like, forever, so I broke out my 6" platform heels for the occasion. **Mental note: alcohol and 6" platform heels do NOT mix**
So around 12:30am I decided to head home and as I stepped out of the establishment, I thought I had more of a step than I actually did. I remember taking that 1st step...and then remember being sprawled out on the sidewalk with my friends staring at me. Nothing in between.
My first reaction? I had to make sure my $90 heels didn't break. Phew...they didn't. Next was to tell these guys to get me up off the ground because I was freezing cold. My friend lifted me up and just when I thought I was fine, I attempted to take a step and, um, well, I could't. I just wanted to get home so he popped me into my car and home I went. Thank God I hurt my left leg and not my right! I called my husband on my way home and just told him to come out and get me. He asked why and I said I think I broke my leg. So when I got home, he helped me inside, laid me on the bed and I went to sleep.
The next morning, stunned with a massive hangover, my husband woke me up after getting our kids off to school to tell me we were going to the ER. I'm thinking now, oh, its probably just a sprain, I'll be fine.
Oh I definitely broke it. I have a complete break of the tibia and my fibula is badly displaced. So i went home with some percocet, a boot cast and a pair of crutches. And a very, very angry husband.
Long story short...I am now home bed bound after having surgery to plate my tibula and a bunch of bolts and screws and, well, half an aisle of Home Depot holding my left leg together. And my second surgery is scheduled in 2 weeks to see what other hardware they can add to my leg just to piss off security at the airports in the future.
Although as I am trying to make light of this situation, it's actually quite painful. The percocet that they gave me for pain is more or less a placebo to me...it has no effect whatsoever on the amount of pain I am in. And its not just physical pain...its a huge financial pain, too. My husband has had to adjust his schedule, taking time off and getting guys to swap shifts with him, just so there will be someone home to get the kids off to school and take the dogs out (mind you, we just adopted a puppy, who is now 18 weeks old and giving us hell about house training). Our usual paycheck to paycheck living isn't working anymore and with the holidays coming up, Im just not sure how we are going to manage.
So there is my story. Im sure i will continue to add tidbits here and there...it's not like I can do much more than that and, well, facebook only goes so far.
If you have learned anything from my story, remember alcohol and 6" platform shoes do not mix.