Remind me again why we have ankles…

So, as always, Monday night is Kung Fu night.

Which reminds me…

Before I go  any further, I’d like to make a formal apology for a post I made in January in relation to my martial arts school turning 10 years old.  In fact, it had just turned 11 years old.  Where on Earth did I miss that year?!

Anyway, where was I..?

Right.  Monday night is Kung Fu night.  I teach twice weekly.  I use the term ‘teach’ in stead of ‘train’ because I haven’t really been very active in the school for quite a while…  In fact, I it was before I fell pregnant with my beautiful little man.  I carried on teaching, but my activity level decreased to the point where I normally just sit behind a table and complete paperwork.

I’ve been on a bit of a weird exercise regime recently.  A few weeks ago, I tried ‘Kick Fit’.  It wasn’t for me…  Yet, anyway.  It was too strenuous, and I spent 3 days after the class trying to walk.  Overall, I highly recommend it, and I will say that I will return to the classes when my fitness level increases somewhat.

Last week, I tried a whole different type of class.  I went dancing!  I had always wanted to try a real belly dancing class, but the classes that I found were either too expensive, or too far away.  However, after a lot of research, and clicking links within links throughout the internet, I managed to find a class about 3 miles away from where I live.

So I went, and I really enjoyed myself, and I will be returning…  However my thoughts on the teacher are much to be desired.  She is a lovely lady, and she really can dance (for her age!!  She’s easily in her late 50’s!!), but her teaching methods are horrific.

The class in which I attended was a mixed abilities class; a few experienced dancers, a few intermediate, and a good handful of “newbies” – myself included.

The teacher expected everyone just to dive straight in…  “Do this; do that…”  No instructional, and no help when we struggled with a particular “wiggle”.

HOWEVER, as I have said, I will be returning, simply because I enjoyed the dancing, and the music.

Tsk…  I’m straying completely away from the point…

Monday night is Kung Fu night.

Last night I had took it upon myself to be more physically active.  The class was almost full.  There was only one student missing from the regular bodies.  All students looked a mix between happy and worried that I had stepped up to take the warm-up.  It had been a while, and so, to cover my back, I had created a lesson plan.

Everything was going extremely well.  All the students were sweating within minutes, the warm-up was turning into a success, and I was joining in.  Stretching time…  I was joining in with the stretches too!!

“Ok, so turn out the knee.  Hold for 5. 4. 3. 2. 1.  Ok, now keeping your legs in the same position, lift your toes off the floor, and point them towards the ceiling.”

It was that point.

I had no trouble what-so-ever in performing the same technique of my other leg, just a minute or so before…

“Crack, pop…”  I hit the floor.

My ankle literally just given up on me.  It felt like it rolled and twisted the wrong way.

Still, I acted as professional as possible, and I counted down the stretch that the students were still holding the position.  I fumbled my way into the next stance, and conducted my instructional verbally whilst trying to copy.

Hopefully, I made an impression that it was my intention to drop out at that point.  The warm-up was now complete, and I had given everyone a couple of minutes to go and stand outside with their drinks to “relieve” the water, dripping from their heads.

Did you know that my husband also trains in Kung Fu?

Luckily, he was there last night.

Whilst everyone was “having a breather”, he came over to me, asking what the plan was for the rest of the night.  Good.  He didn’t notice anything.

I can’t hide it.  I need to tell him…  “I think I’ve broken my ankle”, I said quietly.

I pulled my sock down to check on any swelling that may have been forming, and I got the fright of my life.  My skin was torn, and slightly bloody.  Trying not to panic, I pulled my sock back up.  I honestly thought that I had a compound fracture.

Let’s lose a few hours here…

It’s now 10:30pm (approx.).  I’m sitting in tears, in the living room, and I tell M just how much pain I’m in, and that I wanted to go to the hospital.

M phones the local A&E to check on waiting times, only to be told that we were easily looking at 3-4 hours to be seen in Triage.  In Triage!  That’s not even x-ray!  I said that I’ll see how I feel in the morning.

Fast forward…

I get up this morning, and the second I put any weight on my foot, I break down.  Tears stream.  I can’t walk.

I phone up work, to explain that I won’t be in today as I have to go to the hospital.

After an hour, or so, we’re sitting in A&E.

I was seen by Triage, consulted, x-rayed, and consulted again all within 2 hours.  I leave with crutches.

There are no visible breaks or fractures, however just to play it safe, the x-ray is being sent to a senior radiologist to double check the results.

The nurse consultant (lovely lady, named Karen) stated that if I didn’t hear anything back from the hospital by Friday, this week, that the pain and injury that I am suffering is a severe sprain, and I am to start putting weight on it, and trying to walk normally.  If I receive a phonecall from the hospital, I am to return to get splinted and plastered as it will be a break / fracture.

Either way, that’s me so far.

But let’s retrace my words…  Belly dancing.  I will be returning…  But not tomorrow.

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