“What, we’re cooking in the bathroom now?” my sister-in-law asks me, after seeing me bring our Crockpot dinner into the kitchen from our master bathroom. I tell her she doesn’t understand, that EVERYTHING has to be secured. She puts her hand up to me and says, “No, I understand.” Later, she leaves a plastic cup of tea, unattended, on the kitchen counter. A few moments later Gracie comes by, grabs the cup, and throws it across the kitchen. Kristine and my sister-in-law then have to mop it up. No, really. You do NOT understand. Sorry, Sis. I have to poke fun at you.
Later that same evening, Gracie trips over the safety gate we have at her bedroom door. Kristine thinks Gracie may have seriously hurt herself because she is limping. That doesn’t bode well, because Gracie has a high pain tolerance. I shrug it off and say she’s fine. The next morning Gracie can’t bear any weight on her left foot. There goes our morning. Gracie misses school for the day, because we take her to Urgent Care and have her ankle and foot x-rayed. The nurse asks me if I want to wait outside while they take the x-rays. The nurse doesn’t understand. I need to be next to Gracie I tell her. I ask for the lead vest and say, “What’s a few more rad?” The nurse fires away, taking x-rays while I hold Gracie still.
Turns out she has a chip fracture on the ankle end of her fifth metatarsal, one of the long bones in her foot. The doctor gives us a sort of boot for Gracie’s foot to provide support for the area, and lessen the pain while walking. We try the boot on Gracie, and with relief, we see she manages to walk. Good, cause I was quickly tiring of lifting her to and from her wheelchair.
I need to get her an extra tall safety gate now, because I had raised the current one we have to keep her from climbing over it (hence, the reason she tripped). As I write this she picks up a plastic cup, empty thankfully, throws it across the kitchen, and merrily clomps into our family room. Can’t even leave dishes out to dry like normal people. I think she likes the sound the boot is making. The next day my mother-in-law ends up having to take the boot from her, because she’s turned the boot into a chew toy. Sigh…