I’ll be honest, I’m not very tall. So for work events, I’m always in Mules or a little heels – basically anything that would “elevate” me slightly higher than the ground. So, come March – it’s event season in Dubai (I’m a PR girl) I’m at events and I’m constantly in flats. And it’s a fun story.
So, last year – just before Christmas (roughly 2 and something-ish months ago), I slipped and fell down the stairs in the cinema. INSIDE the cinema. While walking down to leave. I fell long and hard. Tore a ligament on my left ankle. I’ll tell you this, VOX cinema staff at MOE (Dubai) is lovely. They were really nice and quickly got the paramedics to check. It was awful. I was in a cast and absolute misery for over 3 weeks.
My mood swings were beyond me – I was very upset. For someone who’s always running around, moving about and doesn’t have “standing still” in her list of to dos, it was a new battle. Mostly internal but very dramatic. Obviously, it gets better, my brother was in town for a couple of days, and he wanted to go for the movie – and bear the drama that ensued following my fall. Needless to say, he was the one who had to run around like my flying monkey for water, remote and things I would conveniently forget by the time he grunted, rolled his eyes and came to answer my tenth call of the 20 minutes. Yeah, I am not holding my breath for the ‘best sister’ trophy this quarter.
But, this story and the mulling gets better. Just before I tragically slipped and tore my ligament 10 days before, I was at my friend’s wedding – and during this ceremony where the bride’s friends steals the groom’s shoes my other friend’s golden heel went straight in my right big toe. Ouchie. We cleaned it up, I was flying the next morning, so between a hangover, that pain and general wedding exhaustion was served on a platter.
The next day I had an event and wore the same (golden mules) to it – being the forgetful bird I am – I forgot to clean them. By the end of the night, my big toe was twice it’s size and at least 8 times more painful. It turned out to be an inflammation. It involved a painkiller injection (my trypanophobia is a whole different story), anti-biotics and me being off my feet for 10 days. The procedure, pain and prescribed pharmaceuticals ended on Tuesday evening. By Friday 6.30 PM, my other leg had a cast.
Look, I’m very clumsy. I have always been – mostly my legs. Actually, mostly to my right leg. I had stitches when my mixer’s blade fell on my right big toe, or when my friend & I fell and I fractured my right ankle. Monthly twists, falling on flat surfaces (no alcohol/heels necessary), or just simply attempting to walk does it. But, it’s always been on my right foot – so my left one is the strong one. So, when I broke my left – my right was just in shock. It was still recovering from the unfortunate inflammation – and now being the main bearer of my entire being.
For the first couple of days, I was just hopping on my right foot, when the full cast went in, for a whole day – I was just remembering so, how am I supposed to even walk? I couldn’t put one foot infront of another. I’m still in a little pain – but it takes a while and I don’t really have an option so… here I am – mulling over mules.