Yesterday morning my mother fell and broke both of her ankles. She called at work to tell me and my first inclination was that someone had died. I knew it wasn't my dad, my grandmother or any of my aunts or uncles because her voice sounded somewhat calm, but I could tell that something was distressing her (and since she never calls me at work I knew something was up). So, when she told me that she'd broken both of her ankles, I was most relieved, and then VERY disheartened because that's a TERRIBLE thing to have happen! My poor little mama!
It reminded me of when I broke both of my arms in 6th grade, and that was a terrible terrible time. At least, as she said, she'll be able to feed herself and get dressed. But she will feel pretty miserable for a few days, and then when she starts to mend, she'll be pretty bored and miserable. So, we have to think of things to keep her from going crazy!
UPDATE: Only one of Mom's ankles is broken. The other is very badly sprained, so after a week or so she'll be able to hobble around a little. Thank goodness!
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