On Tuesday evening I didn’t fall but I did break my foot. I don’t know if the trip/stumble as I went into my bedroom was related to the fall from my bike on the Sunday. Perhaps I was even less steady on my feet than a ‘normal’ person might be. Perhaps I was simply overtired from having been to London and back for a casting. Whatever the case, as I went through my bedroom door, I stumbled forward and banged my foot against the edge of a chest of drawers.
I knew straight away I had hurt it badly. It hurt far more than stubbing your toe usually would. It crippled me. I wondered if I had broken anything. It was late and I didn’t want to do anything about it that night. I didn’t think there was anything that could be done. I went to bed.
I don’t think I slept very well. The pain did not go away. By the morning it was throbbing and one of my toes was swollen but not black and blue. I wanted to know whether there was anything in particular I should do if it was broken. My GP was concerned that the pain and slight bruising wasn’t just on the toe but into the foot. She referred me for X-ray meaning that I could bypass some of the queuing at A&E. The radiologist was swift, efficient and helpful. Yes, a broken metatarsal. Triage was also reasonably good: “Apart from my MS, was there anything they needed to know?” I could truthfully say, “I’ve broken my foot”.
The only long wait was to see the Casualty doctor who would decide what should be done. Again, he asked: “Apart from your MS is there anything I need to know?” “Isn’t having MS enough?” I responded.
The thing is, it is enough. Too much some days. I have MS, I fell off my bike, I unintentionally kicked a large item of furniture. I have broken my foot. Enough.