Plastered!

In December 2002, I was on the phone to my mother early evening, and said 'right, I have to go now Mum, I'm going out to get plastered'. She was rightly appalled by my terminology, but it was true, I was going out to a Russian Restaurant which had a vodka menu, I mean, come on, there is a certain expectation there is there not?





Sadly, my borsch went cold, I drank too many shots - honey vodka, strawberry vodka, cherry vodka, the-strongest-vodka-on-the-menu, you get the picture. Slightly befuddled, I went to the loo where my 5 inch heel got caught on a spongey floorboard and I fell, badly twisting my ankle. My friend came out of the loo and picked me up, oh, how we laughed. I went back to the table feeling somewhat whooshy and decided to have a lie down under the table. I don't remember anything until the next morning. My friends would have to tell you about how they tried to get me to walk up and down the road in an effort to sober me up!





The next morning, I woke up to go to the loo and fell straight over. My husband (then boyf) thought I'd had a stroke. My right foot looked like I was wearing black socks. I wasn't! Long story short, got to A&E was taken straight through to x-ray, when the x-rays came back the nurse called over all his colleagues so they could ho-ho-ho about it. I had a bimalleolar fracture. Was told I needed an operation to put plates and screws in and if I didn't have it I would never walk again. Stayed in hospital for a couple of weeks, successful operation. I was discharged on Christmas Eve (much to my husband's horror, he had to dash around M&S grabbing ready food to stick in the oven the next day. As I'm a veggie, and he's not, he had to buy a turkey dinner for one and got some very pitiful stares!).





I was on crutches for 3 months and it took a good 6 months before I could walk in anything like a normal manner. They told me that I'd be able to run up the stairs after a year, so a year to the day after, I went out to the communal stairs and ran up them!





Anyway, the reason I'm telling you this (apart from the important lesson I hope you have picked up - do not get lashed whilst wearing 5 inch heels - I guess everyone already knew that though didn't they?) is that this week I went running! It just goes to show you. When I was having those weeks of bed rest / on crutches / walking with bizarre gait, I never, ever thought I'd be able to walk normally never mind run, yet it wasn't until I was half way through my run that I remembered that my leg might actually prevent me from achieving what I want to from running. Which is a shame because I loved being out in the fresh air, running alongside the river, nodding at the other runners (and none of them thinking I was a freak!). I guess I just have to see how it goes and think about all the professional footballers who come back within a season after having plates put in their bodies.


Total tangent to tell you a sweet thing: when I went off for my run, I could hear C crying for me in the flat, and R trying to distract her. When I came back, I didn't have my keys so R had to buzz me in. I saw our front door open and a little body came storming out with her arms up for me to pick her up, but she still had an angry little face to let me know she wasn't impressed with missing Mum.