The day started off with the typical ritual of:
every square inch of my body before big social events that involve a fancy pants dress.
Oddly I really dislike having my toenails painted but I figured since I was wear peeptoe gold pumps I better have some well done toes. So we buff, scrape, lotion, paint, etc etc etc my feet to shiny red perfection.
Next was hair that ended up in a big curly side pony adorned with some art deco clips. Strands of pearls and gold beads, matching earrings, topped with the fantastic dress. I was ready to get my drink and party on for 2010 with the company.
All was fun and games for the first couple hours. I got to see many of my coworkers from other locations that I adore but never get to see. I felt like a sore thumb in the room full of black cocktail dresses, but that's how I roll right?
So the night ventures on. I'm rocking on the dance floor with my stellar dance moves that you all know and adore from my many many years of ballet. Sarcasm is not translating well here.
We are dancing. We feel some pain my foot. By now the 4 inch gold pumps had been tossed under a chair for the evening.
Coworker: "Uhhhh, you're bleeding"
I am gushing. Spurting. Dripping blood. Ev-er-y-Wh-ere.
Hobble to bathroom.
Reach down. Feel glass shard stuck into the top (yes I said top) of my foot. ?!?!!?!!?!
Pull shard out. Grab paper towels and try to control the waterfall out of my foot.
Hotel staff comes in and tells me if I go outside the women's bathroom they can help me with a first aid kit. Luckily I very sweet coworker found me and sat with me while we painfully brushed alcohol pads over the wound and attempted to seal it up with band aids.
After many tears she helps me back into the ballroom and I sit until I can start feeling the blood again. Oh lord.
The tears start.
Good friend Sam comes over and after much resistance convinces me to go to the ER. Stitches.
After a short cab ride the three jovial individuals above end up at the George Washington Hospital ER.
My doctor was very nice. Determined we should do some stitches as the cut was deep but not very large. Due to some much needed distractions she was able to numb up my foot and stitch me up with my throwing up or passing out once. It was quite the success for me.
While we were getting stitched up we also witnessed the most disheartening display of police officers I can ever imagine. While waiting for a mangled guy they brought in they were arguing over who got to check in on their iPhone to be the "Mayor" of the hospital. I. Kid. You. Not. DCPD. Wow.
Getting discharge papers took forever. And all I was given for pain was a few advil (smart but not pleasant). My foot was all bandaged and all I had with me for footwear were the 4 inch pumps.
They gave my hospital socks.
It is p-o-u-r-i-n-g rain at this point (2amish)
I get myself to bed, gimpy foot at all and awake to think that I must have dreamed this disaster of an event.
Oh no. It was real.
Thank you Erin for the term
So after a few days more of work, ADPi events and early gift exchanging I flew home to Idahome. A few days later and my mom went with me to our family practitioner to have him remove the stitches. It wasn't bad. Not pleasant, but not bad.And afterwards he gave me a lollipop like old times.
So cue ending credits right?
One trip to the emergency doctor. 10 days of antibiotics.
Nope not done yet.
Apple corer....slices off who top of my finger tip.
Now we are done with ER and doctor visits and let's hope it stays that way for a long long time!