I’m sitting here in the ER, waiting to get my foot x-rayed. Because, you see, I did manage to live through the half marathon, but think I might have broken my foot during the process.
Actually, I think I ran it on a broken foot, because I am smart like that. I injured it more than a week ago, and it’s just gotten worse since then.
So here I sit, in a hospital gown, blogging. Tell me, what about a foot xray necessitates a hospital gown? I think it’s a psychological trick to make sure I know who’s in charge or something.
I’ll let you know what I find out, although I am going to be very embarrassed if the doc tells me I sprained my ankle and should take some motrin, which I suspect will be the case.
Update: that is exactly what happened, and now I feel like an idiot. And a wimp.