The Return. . .

Hey everybody! I'm sorry for disappearing on everybody for a good long while there, but I finished school and passed my state boards and started working. . . . Basically, I just got really busy for some time. Then I got into a funk where I was only wearing scrubs and PJs and that doesn't make for great posts, I assure you. I finally feel like I'm back to my old self again, and have gotten back into the swing of wearing real clothes on my off days instead of sweats and yoga pants.  

And then I broke my ankle.  

Yep.  

 Check out that awesome cankle! 

 

In two places no less.  And I wish I could tell you that I did it doing something cool and death-defying like kickboxing or fending off an attacker, but that would make me a liar.  So the truth is, I fell off my front stoop and landed in my flower bed.  Seriously.  

I was on my way to work (wearing brand new scrubs), and turned to make sure the door was shut all the way, and somehow managed to twist my ankle and fall into my flowerbed.  I heard a couple of popping sounds as I went down, and laid there stunned for a minute before trying to yell for Jimmy to come help me.  Of course, he was trimming hedges in the backyard and couldn't hear me over the hedge trimmers.  So there I am, lying in my flowerbed in the front yard, crying and yelling for my husband, just hoping nobody comes walking by and sees me wallowing around in the dirt like a crazy person.  

 This is what it looked like on Day 4

I then realized I had my phone in my pocket, and called Jimmy to come help me.  Thank God, he answered!  He took me to urgent care ('cause I really didn't think it was broken!) and we waited what seemed like forever to find out it was broken and that I'd have to go see an orthopedic specialist.  And then they cut up my brand new scrub pants to put a splint on my leg.

Well, thenthe ortho doc put me in a walking cast for three weeks (which of course means I can't work or drive, because it's my right ankle), and I go back to see him Monday to check how it's healing.  Hopefully, he'll release me to go back to work in the next two weeks.  

 And here's my Big Black Boot of Destruction, as my husband calls it.  Trixie is not a fan.

So that's my pathetic story. 

I've basically reverted back to sweats and yoga pants since I can't even leave the house without a chauffeur.