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A Meticulous Guide to Injuring Your Ankle

Updated on May 15, 2019

Let me paint you a picture, it's the end of January 2018, I'm in Wolfville, NS and I've just started my second semester of second year at Acadia University. Everything is going well for me, Christmas just passed, I have a new haircut and I'm FEELING myself, and I've started dating a very cute boy, what else could a 19 year old possibly want?


So I'm at a house party with my friends, drinking, dancing, singing, just having the time of my life before midterms and assignments start to drown me. Suddenly I get a text from the boy I'm dating - lets call him Leon - telling me that him and his roommates are ordering nachos and I need to join them. Nachos combined with cute boys just happens to be the key to my heart, and so I was out of that party in no time.


I made the one mistake that no university student, especially girl should ever make: do not leave a party/bar by yourself when you are drunk, always go with friends. I didn't do that, I walked right out of that house in mid-winter, during a snowstorm, with a mesh t-shirt on and a buzz that would keep me going for hours.


So there I was: buzzed, lazy and not thinking. So I decided to take a path to get to Leon's house a little bit faster. Needless to say, a dark, unpaved, unplowed path in the winter is a recipe for disaster, and that's exactly when I slipped on some ice...

The pain hit me after a couple seconds of being on the ground, it was like my ankle was screaming at me and I realized I probably wouldn't be able to get up. So I just lied on the ground, in the snow, in a dirty pathway, by myself, trying to figure out what I was going to do. Instead of doing the smart thing and calling someone to come help me, I decided I would force myself to get up and walk the rest of the way to Leon's house, because I really wanted those nachos.

- Let me just explain to you how dumb of an idea this was (as you get to know me you'll learn I've made a lot of dumb ideas and I'm sorry you have to read about them) : the house party I just left was about 50 metres away and all of my friends were there, the Student Union Building which housed campus security was about 30 metres away in the other direction, Leon's house was a solid 2km away on the other side of town, why I chose to make the 2km trek with a very injured leg, only God and drunk Robyn know-

After limping and sobbing my way to Leon's house, I crashed in the door and yelled for him to help me. We quickly realized that I should go to the hospital, and since I was drunk and injured and him and all of his friends were high on cocaine (I never said that dating him was a good decision), we needed to call an ambulance.



Now, I'll just break down the events in the year and a half to follow after the hospital visit, quick and dirty:

In the hospital: we waited for hours to be told that it's "just a sprain and you'll be fine in a few weeks", I borrowed my friend's crutches and bought a brace and figured I'd be good to go.


Weeks to come..: I started physio, learned that I appeared to have sprained almost every lateral ligament on my ankle, and was told to keep wearing that brace and using those crutches. Once I started walking again, I also started falling a lot more, it seemed that every other day I was slipping on something and rolling my ankle all over again, I won't even try to sugarcoat it because it SUCKED.


Months later..: After about 6 months of physio, it still wasn't getting better and I could no longer skate, run, or do much without pain and/or my ankle rolling over constantly. That's when I started seeing a Sports Medicine Doctor, who, eventually decided to send me to a surgeon.


Today: Here we are, a year and a half later since my dumb, drunken tumble, and into my first week of recovery from ankle surgery. After lots of MRI's and X-rays and CT scans, my surgeon decided that the best way to get me back to my normal activity level would be to operate. And now we get to spend the next couple of months dealing with a painful recovery that I can't wait to kick in the butt.


Moral of the story: if you are drunk, if a cute person invites you over for food, take a taxi, take a friend, don't walk alone in the dark. If you end up ignoring that first piece of advice and end up injured and alone on a dark pathway, call an ambulance, walk to the nearest community building, don't walk 2km to see a boy that has nachos because him and his nachos aren't even that good.


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