Broken Ankle

Oh yes! Michael broke the end of his fibula (or is it his tibia? the smaller of the two). He twisted his ankle on the ice while running on Friday late afternoon, and managed to walk all the way home. Not only that, but the next morning, he got on a bus and spent the day in New York City taking our students around the MoMA. He walked to the subway, walked to lunch, and walked to the Met to catch the bus home.

Lessons learned are the following: 1., Michael is not a wimp. I tend to be a bit heartless and impatient when he's sick, and I really need to stop that! 2., It says something about the pace and demand of our daily lives that on Saturday morning, when his ankle was still really hurting and I was calling friends and neighbors trying to locate crutches for him, we decided that it was easier for him to *go to New York with a broken ankle* than to stay home and take care of the kids while I went instead. 3., We're not as young as we used to be.

The good news is that it was a clean break and there was no displacement, so no pins or plates or surgery are called for. He's in a space-age inflatable cast that he can remove for sleeping or bathing, and can hobble around on. He feels like it's getting better already, but the doctor says to expect four weeks in the cast, and then we'll see. Poor Michael! (and, selfishly, poor me, who now must fetch and carry and run up and down stairs for another Clapper for a little while...)