Last night as I was sitting down to a lovely plate of shrimp with peanut sauce with a side of sesame stir fried snow peas and some seasoned potato wedges, when my meal was inturrupted by Darryl who comes in limping, from his basketball game, he rolled his ankle. So he takes off his shoes, yelling for pain meds and I end up having to cut the sock off his foot. At this point, I tried to not let my reaction show in my face, but I said very calmly, "okay, we need to go to the ER" because it was practically grapefruit size.
So I'm trying to get the dogs tucked away and Ginger, my little kidney patient who wouldn't come out of her crate all week decided she didn't want to go back IN the crate because she was feeling better. I was like, "Really Ginger? I had to drag you out of there snarling all week and now the one time I need you to get IN there, you won't?" And of course, she was tricked into the crate with a treat.
Long story short, D's ankle wasn't broken, he's just crutching around in an air cast until he can put weight on it. I hope he meant it when he promised no more basketball until after the wedding.