Well Friday started out nicely. Went to school, passed my Spanish test so I’m moving up a level, did some shopping then took a nap. We had plans to go out and have a fun night before Hristol left in the morning for Bulgaria. So we had a nice dinner over Port Olympic and tried Sangria de Vino and Sangria de Cava (Champagne). Sangria de Vino is better. After that we head down stairs to go to the different clubs as Hristol hadn’t made it to this part of town in his 3 weeks. We were drag
ged into an Australian themed club and started dancing. We were having a good time and then head to the next bar. The music was a mix of 80s and country (hilarious) so we ducked in. Made some new friends while dancing and were having a blast…..until the Cotton Eyed Joe came on. Well let me just say, I may have no rhythm and cannot dance but the Europeans were running the Cotton Eyed Joe. Their version of a line dance was sad, pathetic. So I get the genius idea, I should show them how to properly line dance. I have a new thought, anytime I get some genius idea I should run far far away. Anyway, I’m going along just fine for a while but then head over to a new group of people to show and wham all of a sudden I’m on the floor! Everyone is staring as I just sit there for a minute, look down at my ankle and realized it is not in good shape. I try to stand and make it up but I cannot put much pressure on my ankle. Of course at this time Kristelle has come over to see if I’m okay and I say not I need to get outside and get some ice. On top of that t
he security people from the club come over to tell us they have called an ambulance. Now by this time I have ice and am checking out my ankle, I can move my toes and stand but it’s painful. I tell the security guards that I really don’t need an ambulance, my ankle is just sprained and I’ll be okay. The look on their faces says – She’s an American who’s going to sue the pants off us no chances being taken. So I obligingly wait for the EMT guys. When they show up (so cute by the way) they inspect my ankle, I tell them it’s just a sprain and am told they cannot diagnose it and I need to go to the ER it could be broken. My reply of I can move my toes so my ankle isn’t broken was not acceptable. Once they found out I would be here for another 7 weeks, they really became insistent that I go to the ER. So I cave, wasn’t much choice at this point. I think ask if I can just hobble into the ambulance but no, I am placed on a gurney. At this point I’m just laughing my head off. How many people have said I need to be careful and that I was going to seriously hurt myself sometime in my heels and shoes and falling all the time. For the record, I
was in flats but it is the same ankle that spent 6 weeks in a boot. I think it is cursed. So I’m not headed for the Barcelona ER where I met a nice guy from NY whose my admit person and English translator. Of course Kristelle whose not family isn’t allowed up even though her Spanish is much better than mine. Stupid HIPPA laws are over here too and my response of I’ll sign whatever waiver to allow her up didn’t work either. So now I have my foot elevated because its begun to hurt and have been placed in the wheel chair. No one understands why I have my foot elevated and I can’t really explain in Spanish so I just get a ton of odd stares. Anyway, 2 xrays later I am told my ankle has a minor sprain, not broken and to stay off it for 5-6 days and take Ibuprofen. My ankle was wrapped in an ace and I was set on my way. However, I can’t really walk at this point more like hop on one foot. We manage a cap and to hop into the house so that the next morning we can go to the pharmacy to get some crutches and hopefully find the ankle casts that are plastic to give it more support. The walk to the pharmacy took forever. Kristelle has been a saint helping me get ice and carrying my stuff for me as we go 
do things. I owe her big time. Anyway, spent today at the beach as we are supposed to be out of the house for most of each day, enjoy the pictures of my adventure from Friday. My foot is slowly starting to feel better hopefully I can find the right type of support tomorrow and be off the crutches in a few days. I will never dance the Cotton Eyed Joe again.
ged into an Australian themed club and started dancing. We were having a good time and then head to the next bar. The music was a mix of 80s and country (hilarious) so we ducked in. Made some new friends while dancing and were having a blast…..until the Cotton Eyed Joe came on. Well let me just say, I may have no rhythm and cannot dance but the Europeans were running the Cotton Eyed Joe. Their version of a line dance was sad, pathetic. So I get the genius idea, I should show them how to properly line dance. I have a new thought, anytime I get some genius idea I should run far far away. Anyway, I’m going along just fine for a while but then head over to a new group of people to show and wham all of a sudden I’m on the floor! Everyone is staring as I just sit there for a minute, look down at my ankle and realized it is not in good shape. I try to stand and make it up but I cannot put much pressure on my ankle. Of course at this time Kristelle has come over to see if I’m okay and I say not I need to get outside and get some ice. On top of that t
he security people from the club come over to tell us they have called an ambulance. Now by this time I have ice and am checking out my ankle, I can move my toes and stand but it’s painful. I tell the security guards that I really don’t need an ambulance, my ankle is just sprained and I’ll be okay. The look on their faces says – She’s an American who’s going to sue the pants off us no chances being taken. So I obligingly wait for the EMT guys. When they show up (so cute by the way) they inspect my ankle, I tell them it’s just a sprain and am told they cannot diagnose it and I need to go to the ER it could be broken. My reply of I can move my toes so my ankle isn’t broken was not acceptable. Once they found out I would be here for another 7 weeks, they really became insistent that I go to the ER. So I cave, wasn’t much choice at this point. I think ask if I can just hobble into the ambulance but no, I am placed on a gurney. At this point I’m just laughing my head off. How many people have said I need to be careful and that I was going to seriously hurt myself sometime in my heels and shoes and falling all the time. For the record, I
was in flats but it is the same ankle that spent 6 weeks in a boot. I think it is cursed. So I’m not headed for the Barcelona ER where I met a nice guy from NY whose my admit person and English translator. Of course Kristelle whose not family isn’t allowed up even though her Spanish is much better than mine. Stupid HIPPA laws are over here too and my response of I’ll sign whatever waiver to allow her up didn’t work either. So now I have my foot elevated because its begun to hurt and have been placed in the wheel chair. No one understands why I have my foot elevated and I can’t really explain in Spanish so I just get a ton of odd stares. Anyway, 2 xrays later I am told my ankle has a minor sprain, not broken and to stay off it for 5-6 days and take Ibuprofen. My ankle was wrapped in an ace and I was set on my way. However, I can’t really walk at this point more like hop on one foot. We manage a cap and to hop into the house so that the next morning we can go to the pharmacy to get some crutches and hopefully find the ankle casts that are plastic to give it more support. The walk to the pharmacy took forever. Kristelle has been a saint helping me get ice and carrying my stuff for me as we go 
hahahhaha strong work clutz. i think the er bed pic is my favorite :p
ReplyDeleteI realize that you have a disclaimer and all but could you at least proof read before you post! You're not just misspelling words but you are using the WRONG words in sentences! It's super annoying...
ReplyDeleteAlso, you better be freaking better by the time we go to Scotland!!! It'll be NYC all over again if not...
Ahhhhh... where to begin... sorry, I'm speechless
ReplyDelete