The broken ankle and why I love my roommates.

S0 I  broke my ankle today. In two spots. I am the cliché of making hospitals busy as shit during rainy weather because I’m an idiot. 

I ran to my back door and my foot slid out from under me and in the incorrect direction for anyone who isn’t in Cirque du Soleil. I heard snaps and pops and it currently feels like gravel is rolling around in my ankle. Which I get to enjoy until I have surgery. True story. 

I fell and began screaming my head off for my roommate to come. I was a tad hysterical as I’ve never broken a bone and I don’t have health insurance. He came running out and was so calm while he got me up and into his car while I’m frantically saying ,”it’s broken it’s broken”. 

He take me to the ER gets me a wheelchair and we proceed to wait an hour to be seen, he gets me food, waits alone while I get x-rays, we move to a hallway in a bed where we wait some more until a doctor walks by to tell me what the goings-on are. 

My other roommate shows up with dry socks, phone chargers, and a wonderful sense of humor. What I’m getting at is: I need them. These men are my rock and they have got me no matter what. While we spent hours sitting together. One of them took off my boot and put on dry socks for me, helped me to the bathroom and helped me back up, let me squeeze his hand until I thought I’d break it when the doctor squeezed the cast around my ankle. They made jokes about how I’d cook for them on crutches. How I just needed to walk it off. Having them sit in the hospital with me for so 5 hours meant more to me than I think they know. 

I’m in awe of the friends I have stumbled upon over the years. This core group that will do anything for each other. I need them. I love them. 

My life is a messy reality show and thank goodness they want to be along for the ride. Especially now that I plan on getting a “come here” bell to ring. 


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