The Injury (Part One)

It happened in San Francisco. I was in Oakland for a conference and decided to spend the weekend in San Fran to do some sightseeing, sushi eating, and a little drinking. It was late on Saturday night. Fuck Face and I had spent the day enjoying the city--eating a late brunch, watching the Giants v. Dodgers game at SBC park, heading to the Castro for some beers with the gays, and finding a small quaint spot for some fresh west coast sushi.

Dinner was wonderful. After dinner...ehh, not so great. I ended up tripping down a couple of stairs and falling down. Fuck face was quick to help me up and we continued on our way. Deciding it was time to head back to Oakland, back to the place we were staying for the weekend. My ankle hurt, but I could walk on it. I drove us home, put some ice on the ankle, and fell asleep thinking 'tomorrow it will feel just fine'.

Tomorrow came, and it did feel fine, but it looked like a severly bloated version of my other ankle. The swelling was intense and I could barely walk on it. But I could walk on it, so I figured I was fine. We had a flight up to Seattle that morning, where I would spend a couple of days working before heading to another conference on a remote island in British Columbia, Canada for the next week. Sure that my ankle was just sprained and would be fine after a couple of days rest, I continued as planned to the airport, hobbling the entire way.

After landing in Seattle, it was clear that although the ankle was probably only sprained, I should head to the hospital just to be sure. We drove directly there from the airport. I spent the majority of the afternoon in a wheelchair, getting xrays, and eventually getting fitted for a temporary cast to secure my broken ankle. Yep, I had travelled from Oakland, CA to Seattle, WA on a broken ankle. But the guy who made my cast was so cute, it seemed almost worth it at the time...