You may have gleaned from my latest blog post that I recently fractured my foot.
To digress briefly, after you read this Dayre post you should head over to my blog and read my latest post "Nasty Encounters Of A Blogging Kind Part 2." It's a long and juicy (if you're into that kind of drama) post about two unreasonable parties (a brand and a PR for a brand) that I dealt with as a blogger, and how I dealt with their unreasonable demands.
Is you dizzy, blud?
Back to my foot. 🐾
Sometime in late September I broke, well fractured, my first ever bone. You could say the experience was shattering haha.
I'm a super clumsy person. My bestie Michiekins will tell you it's not a 'Jasiminne Day' until I walk into a wall/trip over random objects/knock over a vase with my hair from turning around quickly (yes it's happened). You could say that I've developed a taste for pain.
But none of that prepared me for nor compared to the pain of breaking a bone.
It wasn't the first time I've had a serious foot injury. When I was 10, a speeding car hit my right foot as me, my dad, and my brother were leaving a hawker centre after we ta pao-ed lunch (soup noodles with fish balls, yum). I remember bleeding like a b*tch all over my school PE uniform and bawling my eyes out, my dad chucking the bags of noodles in the drain and bundling me into his car to take us to the hospital, and my brother asking: "But what about lunch?" Ahahaha PRIORITIES.
Miraculously I DIDN'T break my foot then despite having it hit by a speeding car. I did developed such awful swelling that I was bed-bound and had to miss school for 12 weeks. The novelty of an unexpected and extended school holiday quickly wore off though - try spending half an hour crawling on your belly to get to a bookcase because you just HAD to read Charlie & The Chocolate Factory. I'll take school over that any day thanks.
Let's set the stage. It's an autumn evening in September, about 4-5pm, and I have the whole apartment to myself because my housemate was in Mozambique for business.
I'm the itchy backside sort that cleans, rearranges furniture, and redecorates on a whim, especially during ungodly hours (I suffer from insomnia) and ESPECIALLY when I have the apartment to myself.
I thought it would be a good idea to move a very heavy mirrored console table on my own.
This mirrored table, from Next Home, was one of the first pieces of furniture I bought when I moved into the apartment I'm staying in now. It lived in my living room, as you can see, and I've used it both as a console table and as a blogging nook.
Eventually I realised that I prefer blogging sitting at my dining table (in the day), on the sofa (in the evening), and in my bed (late at night or when it's cold).
Plus the console table was too tall compared to the other living room furniture.
So it was eventually moved to my bedroom, where it served as a makeup table at the foot of my bed.
That setup worked fine for a few months until I realised that the lighting in that corner was less than ideal, so I moved the table to another part of my bedroom.
Oh did I mention that when moving the table from living room to bedroom it sustained a HUGE crack running across the surface? I had to hide it with that marble slab you see on its right.
The mirrored table didn't feel right in my living room, it didn't feel right in my bedroom, and the motherlover had a huge crack.
I should've taken the cracked mirror as a sign of bad luck to come, but noooooooo....
By then the mirrored table had lived in three different places in my apartment (living room, foot of my bed, opposite the right of my bed) but none of those places felt right.
It was evening and I was bored so I thought, hey let's move this table to the balcony and see how it looks there!
The thing about this table is that it comes in three parts. The top (surface slab), and 2 legs. Each part is the same width. The legs slot into a hollow beneath the surface slab, and they are HEAVY.
Like, 50KG heavy.
But I can lift full grown men taller than I with no problem, so a 50kg table is no big deal right?
I lifted the table by its surface slab and the legs slid off before landing, one by one, on the top of my right foot.
A sickening CRUNCH, a searing pain that engulfed my foot like the flames of hell, and an unholy scream that would've made even Satan shit his pants.
Now I'm not the sort of person to cry unless someone's around to console me (LOL attention seeking much) and I was all alone, but all I could do was alternate between wailing in agony and sobbing.
The pain...Jesus. Have you ever broken a bone in your foot before?! I promise you, it's in a class of its own. A paralysing world of pain that seems to go on forever. Not even a dull pain, or a sharp pain, but a special kind of pain that permeates every fibre with the flames of hell. 🔥
I lay on the floor, sprawled out with limbs akimbo trapped under the table like a dead frog displayed under a microscope a science lab, crying for what felt like forever.
In reality it probably was only 10 minutes.
Then I dragged myself to the kitchen and got a bag of frozen peas out of the freezer. Crawled ever so gingerly into bed and elevated my foot, using the frozen peas as an ice pack, and winced as I tried to calculate the damage I had done.
At that point I suspected I may have broken/fractured my foot, but was hoping for just a sprain or bruise (LOL deluded optimist much). I though, eh, I'll give myself a couple of hours with the frozen peas and if it still hurts like a b*tch then I'll go to A&E.
Any sane person would've gone straight to the hospital right away but not me. For one, I couldn't walk from the shock and the injury - even moving my foot brought a tidal wave of pain. Two, I HATE the A&E at my local hospital. It's grim, depressing, and full of dodgy characters. It's the best place to witness a bloody brawl or get threatened by a crackhead with a hypodermic needle. The joys of living in east London...
So I waited it out while consulting my doctor friends.
Dr 1 told me to just RICE (Rest, Ice, Compress, Elevation) and see how it goes. Dr 2 told me to get my foot checked out ASAP.
But it was the Kiwi (a man who is rather special to me - story for another day!) who got me to go to the hospital.
I whatsapped him in hysteria telling him what happened and the moment he woke up (he lives in Australia so he's 10 hours ahead of me) he called me and literally talked me all the way to the hospital and until I got home at 5 in the morning.
I broke my foot at 5pm, called a non-emergency ambulance at 7pm, waited OVER FIVE hours for it to NOT show up and then gave up and somehow found the strength to get in an Uber and take myself to the A&E without any help.
So between breaking my foot and getting home from the hospital, 12 hours had passed.
And the Kiwi was with me on the phone and on Whatsapp for about 7-8 of those hours. Even when I was in the waiting room, being seen by a nurse, having an X-Ray, he was on the other line from the moment he woke up till I went to bed. While he was all the way in Melbourne and I, in London.
He even apologised that he couldn't be there in person to take care of me!
You tell me, is he a sweetheart or not?!
The A&E of my local hospital, true to form, lived up to its reputation of the place where good feelings go to die (OMG inappropriate choice of words but it's so accurate).
Over the course of 2 hours I witnessed a very drunk, very angry woman verbally abusing the staff and having to be removed by security (you know it's Go time when they put on the blue gloves). Her tirade of racist abuse, shouting, and general unpleasantness was at least a distraction from the agony I was in.
Not only was I in an unholy amount of pain but I was starving. I hadn't eaten in over 8 hours just in case I had to be operated on, and didn't want to waste any time on fasting pre-op so I chose not to eat just in case.
Finally, at 3-4am I had an X-Ray taken.
You can't see it but there's a fracture on my 4th metarsasal bone, although a slight one. My foot didn't break all the way, just the surface on my bone, so my estimated recovery time was relatively short. All I had to do was stay at home, with my foot elevated, for 4 weeks. I didn't even need a cast or any surgery!
But I did have to wear a very fetching "air shoe" to keep the weight/pressure off the area plus a crutch for getting around/whacking people out of my way.
OMG the hospital didn't even give me any drugs for the pain. Just told me to take cocodamol (codeine painkillers) and rest.
No ambulance, no drugs... Diu nia seng, limpeh pay taxes for what?! NHS you siao ah?! 😡
Actually the siao char boh (crazy woman) is me. Only two weeks after the incident I damn no fear pump myself up on non-drowsy painkillers and DROVE A CAR for a whole day. What to do, got Fiat advertorial...my work ethic really overrides my common sense LOL.
It's been over two months since I fractured my foot. I can now walk without the air shoe and without my crutch but my injury still flares up with pain every now and then.
My friend, whose basketball career ended abruptly after he broke his ankle, said: "there goes your pro-basketball career" hahaha very funny dude, we all know the only sports balls I play with are Pokeballs.
Not gonna lie, I got depressed as hell over the last two months. Because of my injury I couldn't leave the house. No social events, no travel, no Pokémon Go...being bed-bound is the absolute worse. I think that's why I was so keen to go ahead with my Fiat campaign, because I needed desperately to leave the house and NOT feel like a patient.
It's been two months and while I've been mobile, my foot still acts up after I spend a day out and about. Last week I walked from Harrods to Oxford Circus and the next day I was in so much pain that I feared I'd caused myself lasting damage.
I know I should be taking it easy but cannot leh! I'm 19 Pokemon away from completing my Pokedex and it's not like I can order Charmander candies on ASOS and get next day delivery with ASOS Premier.
OMG just talking about how I fractured my foot is giving my foot "phantom pains".
Have you ever broken or fractured a bone in your foot before? What was the recovery like? Will I ever be able to walk/run/dance normally without the old injury flaring up?
Oh and as for that mirrored console table that brought me so much grief? It's going to the trash heap. BYE FELICIA!
Fun photo of me bleeding all over the place while waiting for an ambulance to (not) come.
LOL break foot but still can update Instagram Stories. 😂
Some more got energy to put on makeup and take selfies WTF
Lagi got time to paint on Instagram Stories LOL LOL LOL.
Yeah, that's the Kiwi. Wearing my glasses and looking like Harry Potter hahahahaha
Blue gloves on = you know security are about to get their hands dirty. It took two burly men to escort the violent, racist, drunk out of the hospital. And even after that she kept trying to shout her way back in WTF. Then her sister (who she was there to see) refused to be treated and both stormed off in a tirade of abuse towards the hospital staff. BE COOL
Abrupt end of this post because the sun just set (at 5pm FML) and I'm sleepy so I have to take a disco nap.
BYE Dayre! Stay safe and keep away from heavy mirrored console tables.
Thursday, 1 Dec 2016
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