Sunday was to be first of our running club's cross country races for the winter BDL, my plan was to run there at an easy pace, do the 5 mile xc, then run home again but alas plans are subject to the whims of fate...that day all it took was tripping over the last step at the bottom of our stairs, something I do far too often (damn narrow British steps). Sunday was different though, I rolled my right foot outward and ended up sitting on the entryway rug clutching my legs and letting loose a very loud and imaginative string of curse words which had my partner awake and rushing down those very same steps to find out what happened.
For once it wasn't an ankle sprain, it was towards the upper part of my foot and it HURT. Hurt in the way that you know something is very broken and you are not just going to hop up and dust off and continue on.
After a few minutes I was able to hobble around, send my apologies for not being able to make the race--fortunately the club now has quite a few women running cross country so my presence wasn't needed to make sure we had a team--and to figure out which A&E was the best to head for. Never have I been so relieved that I had actually taken a shower that morning instead of my usual modus operandi of getting up and throwing on my running kit! The thought of having to spend the day amongst other hurt and sick people while desperately wishing I wasn't a hot mess should not have been first in my mind but it was--very much the 'Wear clean underwear in case you are in an accident' scenario.
To shorten the story up, our local A&E no longer has x-ray services on the weekends so after some poking and prodding the nurse taped up my toes and made an appointment for me to return in the morning to be scanned (wasn't too impressed with that part of the process although everything else went smoothly). Rather than wait that long we ended up going to Nottingham's Queen Medical Centre A&E where there seemed to be an unusually large number of people with foot and ankle injuries!
Putting a happy face on things
So yes, my foot is broken. Specifically, the 5th metatarsal on my right foot is fractured and I am now wearing an oh so attractive black moon boot and restricted to doing absolutely nothing for 2 weeks, then slowly moving about. The bone specialist said that if I was very, very, very, very good about not rushing back into activity (can't even do any spinning) then I should be able to return to running in 6 weeks. After the 2 weeks though I can do upper body work (Hello knee pressups!)
The evidence
My thoughts on being immobile
I thought I would include a short synopsis of my NHS/A&E (Accident and Emergency) experience for family and friends in the states as well. One of the first things we did after I moved over was to register at a local surgery (GP/Doctor's office) and to get my NHS number. Once this is done you rarely have to fill out the mountain of paperwork and seemingly signing away your life whenever going to the doctor that is required at every single visit like in the states. All I did Sunday was walk up to reception hand over my NHS card and driver's licence, confirm my DOB, phone number, address, and next of kin verbally. I did the same thing when arriving for the appointment the next morning at the fracture clinic. The waiting time is also much shorter! The nurse we spoke to at QMC said they would have over 500 people per day go through A&E there so that's very impressive.
