When Michael came home from playing squash Thursday night with a bit of a limp, I wasn’t concerned. He’d won — so he said — and few bumps and bruises are par for the course.
It wasn’t until the next morning, when he started telling me about this “sprained ankle” that I started to worry. It started with a twinge here and a twinge there, and didn’t really start to hurt until he was on his way home on the BART train. Still, he gamely went into work on the Friday, then decided to pop ’round to the doctor’s office at lunchtime. Our suspicions were confirmed — it was a fracture in his right leg just above the ankle.
So, he’s just keeping it elevated (the picture is taken in our sunny back yard, where he’s kicking his feet up and sipping on a beer — really tough….) and we’re waiting until Monday when we can get him an “air cast” in a medical supply store. (Yes, our U.S. health care system sucks. I won’t argue that for a second.)