It was not my intention to have my foot and ankle x-rayed this morning (ON MY BIRTHDAY), but sometimes life throws stuff at you and you just have to deal with it.
I'm fine. Mostly. Nothing's broken. In theory.
On Saturday, I marched in the parade with the rest of the band, and due to a sock malfunction, got a blister on my left heel. I started compensating with my right foot.
My foot was hurting on Sunday, which was normal, I thought. My feet often hurt the day after I march, especially when I wear Chuck Taylors. Last night, Monday night, I put my foot down off the couch in order to stand up, and I was all "OW" and "HOLY CARP". Well, I think my actual words were proverbially unprintable, but you get my drift.
This morning, it still hurt. And because the marching band is performing all this coming weekend at the Forecastle Festival, I thought it best to get checked out. I was able to see the doctor almost immediately, which is great.
I have to "ice the hell out of my foot" (seriously, that's a direct quote from my doc) and take anti-inflammatories, and oh, guess what? I'm not allowed to wear my sequined Chucks this weekend.
I'm trying to remain positive about this. It's my 40th birthday, and I woke up this morning. C'est déjà bien. My foot is most likely not broken. My kids are with me. My husband loves me. I get to eat moules-frites for dinner. And so many people have wished me a Happy Birthday; it's rather overwhelming, but in a good way.
It's just funny that this happened on my birthday. On any other day, I would have bitched about it. Today, I'm just smiling, because I'm here. I'm 40. And I hear it's a good age to be.