Oopsie!

There I was, cute as a bug in my new outfit (pictured in the post below), bidding my friend Yvette "good night". We had met in San Francisco for dinner and wine at Frances, a trendy (and very good!) restaurant in the Castro District, and then cabbed back downtown - Yvette to her home and me to BART to train back to Oakland. I closed the cab door and headed for the stairs to go down into the Civic Center BART station.

Suddenly I was down on the steps, clinging to a railing and looking at my right foot, shoeless in its brown tights. The foot was pointed in a bad direction. And my ankle was swelling to twice its size. At first it didn't even hurt, but then.... ouch, ouch. I had tripped, my shoe had gone sailing, and I had hurt my foot. Even in the shock of the first few seconds, I knew. I had really hurt my foot.

Two women stood near me, one on each side, and I looked up at them. They were both looking down at me. One of them said, "Are you all right?" "I don't think I can stand on my foot," I said. Many people were passing by on the stairs. Some of them looked. One of the women said loudly, "Get the police, get the station manager." The other woman stood in front of me on the steps and looked around.

In a few minutes two BART policemen came running. "What happened? What's your name? Do you want us to call an ambulance?" The women stayed.

"Yes, I think I need an ambulance." I picked up my cell phone and dialed Wayne. He answered. "Wayne, I'm hurt." And we went from there. The women stayed.

Since the police were also there, I said to the woman nearest me, "You can go. Thank you so much for being here with me." And she left. The other woman said, "I'm going to stand here below you so no one can look up your skirt." Well, I hadn't thought of that. And anyway, I had tights on so what would they see? But it was very protective and sweet, and I smiled at her and said, "Thank you".

The ambulance came and whisked me off to Kaiser Hospital Emergency Room, where Wayne met me. We spent a long night with their very kind and professional staff getting me put together well enough to go home. The ankle was broken in two places. Then I went back the next day to have surgery and here I am, in a cast and pretty much couch, chair, and bed-bound. With my "toes above my nose". Drat.

In every story, there's some good news. In this story the good news is I just happened to get the best ankle surgeon in California, and maybe in the whole country. This is according to all the nurses at Kaiser. He is an innovator, who believes you heal better if you're on your feet by two weeks after surgery, unlike the 6 weeks that's traditional. That's very good news for me because I think I'd go crazy confined this way for 6 weeks, and two weeks is next week. I am optimistic.

The other good news is those wonderful women who rallied around a fallen sister and didn't move. They didn't know each other and they certainly didn't know me, but there's something about women that's pretty special. I'm celebrating a personal Women's Appreciation Day in my heart. Thank you, Ladies.