Lovely Awkward: A Year of Wine, Romance and Life Among the French

Lovely Awkward: A Year of Wine, Romance and Life Among the French

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Here's the part I didn't want my parents to read

So, yesterday's fall...

I dropped the bike twice. Once, while walking it around a corner and then once in the multi-car garage. The second drop was on a hill, when I was slightly moving. The bike fell on my leg and smacked the rest of my body to the ground under its weight.

When I lifted the bike to get my leg out, the new high-top Converse shoe I'd bought came off a bit. I looked at it in horror, wondering how much force it actually took to break a bone since I've never broken one before.

The Professor got off his bike and ran back towards mine. He yelled, "Tu es tombée? Tu es tombée?" and I said I was fine. Then we both looked at my foot and started to worry.

From the look of the shoe, the bike had smashed my ankle in the most disgusting way. To investigate how badly I'd been hit, I pushed on the side of the shoe, which is a weird cardboard that's the same density as a fleshy heel. The bottom part of the cardboard (which felt like foot) then moved the top part of the cardboard, which touched my heel in exactly the same spot I thought I was touching down below -- creating the illusion that my ankle was all squishy, elongated and smashed. Blech!

The Professor (in a true test of love), ran to get the car, saying that he was going to take me to the hospital immediately. He pulled the car out and went to put the bikes back inside the garage. I sat in the car and stared at my disgusting-looking shoe and then decided to take it off to survey the real damage.

When we got the shoe off (both with eyes half closed), we realized I was fine. No smashed ankle. Just a scratch and some numbness from the shock.

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