The Son and Only informs me that, after living the best part of forty years on this planet, he has broken a bone for the very first time. OK, so it's only his little toe, but a toe's a toe, you know.
He knew he was guaranteed to receive rather more sympathy from me than from other family and friends (one sister, for example, described him as a muppet) - not just because I am his mother (and mothers are
soft like that) but he knew I would be on his side. I, too, have only ever broken one bone in my body and that was also a toe.
It is little short of amazing that I have only ever broken the one
bone, given my propensity for falling up and down steps with quite startling regularity. Perhaps I bounce? Next time (there's bound to be a next time) I shall try to take more notice at the precise moment when I hit the ground. It will
be a kind of experiment, though not exactly carried out under laboratory conditions. Unless, of course, I happen to find myself in a laboratory with convenient steps up (or down) which I can fall but, to be honest, this is
highly unlikely. If it does ever happen, you will be the first to know.
Steps were actually involved when I broke my toe - on a nocturnal visit to the bathroom I managed to stub my toe on a set
of step ladders which someone had carelessly left propped up on the landing. I was, quite literally, hopping mad!
The doctor sent me to A&E for an X-ray on the basis that at least then I
would know whether I could look forward to six days of pain or six weeks of agony. I do like a man of cheerful disposition. Especially if he is a medical man. At the hospital, I was asked to complete a survey detailing exactly how I had sustained
my injury and I so longed to be able to say that I had been injured while engaged in some kind of dare-devil activity. Like falling off a bob-sleigh while travelling at high speed. Or out of a tree while participating in one of those High Ropes activities
so beloved of my older grand-kids. You get my drift.
Apparently, according to the nurse carrying out the survey, more people are injured on nocturnal trips to the bathroom than anywhere else.
She was probably saying that to make me feel better but, to be honest, I felt even worse knowing that I wasn't even An Original.
Incidentally I hope you are impressed with the image I found to illustrate
today's Daily Blog. If you google "broken toe images" you will be presented with a most distressing range of pictures to choose from. I shall advise the Son And Only to steer well clear on the basis that he is doubtless in enough pain
My favourite memory from my own Broken Toe Experience comes courtesy of grand-daughter, Hazel (then aged about 6 - yes, it was that long ago!) who, every time she caught
sight of my bare feet would remark, in hushed tones: "I can see your broken toe!" like I was something out of a horror movie.
She was, indeed, the only one who treated my broken
toe with anything like the respect it deserved...