Non Sequiturville

So. On Wednesday morning, I was walking to work, and was crossing the final leg at 22nd and Pennsylvania, when I stepped off the curb wrong and hurt myself. (For those of you who are unfamiliar with the Art Museum area of Philly, the streets are massively wide to accommodate all the cars–since cars are infinitely more important than pedestrians in this town–and you sometimes have three or even four legs, from island to island, just to cross ONE street.) I’ve had BAD ankle sprains before and just assumed it was one of those. However, when it happened, right in the middle of the street, I knew I was going to black out any minute and limped back to the island and lay down on it. Of course, a number of cars drove by and ignored me. (Very typical Philly.) But some nice pedestrians came up and asked me if I was OK. I had just passed out from the pain and kept telling them it was just a sprain and I’d be OK, but I probably wasn’t very convincing about it.

Then Marion, who lives in the same building with me and also works in the same building with me, came up and took charge of the situation. She called the police (which I insisted didn’t need to happen) and then an ambulance came. I said over and over and over that I did NOT need an ambulance for heaven’s sake, but they said I had to ride in one because I’d passed out. Marion stayed at the ER with me the whole time I was there.

So it it turns out I have an avulsion fracture. Which is a lot less serious than it sounds. That said, I actually have plaster on the ankle and am not allowed to put any pressure on it. Of course, I cheat anyway because it is SO painful using the crutches and hopping: my other leg and both my arms feel like they’re going to fall off.

But what’s particularly interesting is that I’m not ALLOWED to go to work. The City won’t allow it until I get OKed by the city doctor, and who knows when that will be? It sucks because if their stupid doctor thinks I can’t go back, then I’ll run out of sick time, vacation time: then what? I’m perfectly capable of going to work because my job now is more like a desk job than anything else. Dumb, dumb, dumb.

I’m nervous about taking public transportation now, too. When I lived in Chicago, and got knee surgery, I had to take the bus to the orthopedic surgeon’s one day. I got on the bus (with crutches) and the bus driver immediately floored the gas as soon as I’d paid. She hated me. She was a short, fat white lady and had an issue with me for some reason. The people riding on the bus were all black and no one would give me a seat. They were all able-bodied, too. So I had to try to make my way to the back of the bus (when I’d start to fall on someone, one of the black folks would yell at me), and found a seat way back there. When I got to my stop, I of course had to make my way back all the way to the front of the bus, and the driver yelled, “Hurry the fuck up, bitch!” yes, I reported the driver. No, I doubt anything happened to her. So as much as I know there’s horrible discrimination against black people, it can happen to whites, too. Of course, the driver was white, so maybe she hated me because I was younger and thinner than her. Who knows?

I’m trying to finish my grad school application. I already turned in the payment and the application itself and am hoping it’ll be OK for the rest to trickle in over the next week or so.