No Friday

Fun in Vermont (Part 4) - The ER

Our wedding day, like most, started with a trip to the ER.

I didn’t exactly plan on starting off our Saturday with a trip to Northeastern Vermont Regional Hospital, but sometimes things just work out that way. I am not quite sure what happened, but I think I hurt my foot a few days earlier when I was wearing flip flops, slipped on a wet wooden walkway, and barely and awkwardly regained my balance. I didn’t think much of it at the time. But towards the end of the party on Friday night, my foot was starting to get pretty sore, to the point that I decided to elevate it and ice it. Maybe the earlier Friday bike ride triggered it? I didn’t really know.

The act of icing my foot was apparently noteworthy to Meagan, since I am not really known for eagerly seeking medical attention. Someday, in a later post, I will go into why it’s somewhat amazing that someone who will one day be an awesome doctor even agreed to date me after dealing with me when I had a cold. But, suffice it to say that her instincts were dead on - I wasn’t feeling so hot but was stoically trying to soldier on. I tried keeping ice on my foot in bed, but that was a bit difficult and not really working, and when I got up at around 5:30 am, I could barely walk at all. This wasn’t a particularly good time for not being able to walk. With my fidgeting, Meagan couldn’t really sleep either, so she went to the main building to check the internet, confirming her suspicion that you can’t do much for a broken foot - if that was the injury.

But with our trip to Africa and a big day ahead of us, and thinking that a rural ER wouldn’t be too busy at dawn on a Saturday, we decided to venture out and see if we could get it looked at. Fortunately, there was indeed no wait, and the staff at the hospital couldn’t have been more helpful. I couldn’t help but laugh when the nurse taking my information commented “This isn’t a good way to start a weekend, is it?”. “You have no idea.” I told her what day it was, and the staff did get a laugh later when they asked who my next of kin was, and I replied: “She is. In about 10 hours.”

We proceeded through the routine, first the examination, followed by the X-rays, and then the ER doctor took a look. He examined the joint, checking for pain and sensitivity, and pondered for a while. I was a little confused, thinking, it’s either broken or it’s sprained. The x-rays revealed it wasn’t broken, making me think that I was a bit of a wimp for even being in the ER with a “sore toe”, but I think there’s a reason that “turf toe” is a debilitating injury in football - you don’t realize how much a pain-free big toe contributes to a pleasant ambulatory experience. But, apparently the doctor was pondering whether the joint had gout. Apparently that can be onset by an increase in food and alcohol consumption (he correctly guessed that that might have been going on).

He wasn’t sure whether it was gout or a sprain - only a joint fluid test can confirm for sure - and he didn’t want to that on wedding day. But he prescribed me some steroids for gout for the Africa trip just in case, but otherwise he just advised me to take what, judging by what a regular dosage of Motrin is, an unholy amount of ibuprofen. He also gave me crutches to help keep the weight off. Millions of thoughts were going through my head. I really wasn’t thrilled about being on crutches during the ceremony or reception.

We left the ER, stopped by the pharmacy, and returned to the Inn. I decided the best thing was to get as much rest during the day, which unfortunately meant foregoing some water fun at the beautiful Lake Willoughby. I took a nap, continued to ice it, and popped pills like, well, like someone who really liked Motrin. I helped Meagan with some of the last minute stuff, but mostly, I stayed out of the way and relaxed on the Adirondack chair outside the Inn.

The pain did seem to be mellowing.

Here are a few photos from the afternoon: