Stuck in a Furrow

About 5 years ago, right around this time of year, I slipped on some ice. I was on my way to small group at the ungodly hour of 10am on a Saturday and had stopped to pick up the Tim's donoughts that were a necessity for our early morning meetings. I was wearing my brown clogs. The same ones I happen to be wearing today. Anyhoo, I got out of my car that morning, crossed the street and as I was about to step onto the sidewalk, my foot slipped and I came down...hard. Luckily, being the smart girl that I am, I put my hands behind me to break my fall. (at least they weren't in my pockets. I learned that lesson the hard way too) I ended up tossing the box of donoughts down the street and the tears soon welled up in the corners of my eyes. I picked myself up, holding my wrist and stumbled, empty handed, into Chelsea's house. I was in shock apparenlty, white as a ghost and as soon as they asked what happened, I burst into tears. How embarrasing! The paramedic that lived in her basement didn't think I broke up but it was just a sprain. I iced it, wrapped it and sat through the entire morning study in pain. Then I drove myself home. My parents didn't believe that I broke it and even sent me off to the walk in clinic by myself. After numerous x-rays and a stupid doctor who thought that pushing on the tiny blue line that had formed on my wrist was a good idea, it was determined that indeed I had fractured my wrist. Off I go home and my parents reluctantly agreed to drive me to 8th and 8th for another 4 hour wait and a pretty black cast. The coolest part was when they had to drug me up on morphine so a nurse could pull on my wrist and reverse the compounded fracture so that I wouldn't have one arm shorter than the other. I think I giggled the entire time.

This morning, it was not donoughts that went a-flying but my steeped tea and a bagel.

I'm sure I bruised more than just my ego.