Crippled CouchSurfer: Two Weeks Later
Apoldu de Sus, Romania
Get an x-ray, get an x-ray, get an x-ray—that's all I'm hearing from the very small handful of friends and family members I've told what's happened (a sentiment echoed by Tatiana). I'm not sure what's gotten into her today, she's really pushing for me to get one. Maybe it's hitting the two-week mark and still seeing me in so much pain.
There's been much improvement since the debilitating injury to my feet sustained on the 20th: I can put weight on my feet; I've got my full range of motion back; I'm showering standing up again; and I'm spending a bit more time out of bed (and helping things like the dishes). Unfortunately, the full extent of my injuries becomes painfully obvious in the morning, before I've taken a pain pill. Normally I can hobble around at a decent clip when I'm doped up, but without, I'm hardly able to move across the room without pausing for a pain break.
The pills are both a blessing and a curse, because I'm enabled to get around some, but I think it's just that that's keeping me from healing as fast I could be. I've got a ton more pain in my left heel now than my right, and I think it's because every time I've picked up my PVC didgeridoo cane I've used it to help support my right foot—which initially felt more badly injured than the left—resulting in the opposite foot in as much pain as the right was once in.
The truth is that I'm still in pretty bad shape. I can't walk more than a few feet without a cane and pain pills, I haven't left the house in two weeks, and I really can't imagine myself walking around cities sightseeing, let alone walking further than the curb to a cab with my backpack on.
So I suppose it's no wonder that Tatiana is pushing for an x-ray. She wants to know if there's more serious damage that I'm up against (like a fracture), or if it's something that I can just "push through".
The problem is that it's going to be a full-day ordeal trying to get an x-ray done. I'm not even sure this is something that we can do properly without the car and translation skills of Stephan. I've no idea the extent that people will speak English in a hospital facility, let alone the person who'll be interpreting the x-ray. I'm not afraid of the entire process—if we were successful doing a prenatal checkup speaking French at a Cambodian clinic, I'm sure we'll be fine—just the physically stressful, time-consuming ordeal with a baby in tow.
But tonight's already our 25th night in Apoldu de Sus, and I think it only fair to Tatiana and Stephan to figure out just what I'm up against here. Too bad we couldn't have been stuck in a city with something a little more interesting for the non-disabled of home to do during the day than run to the limited corner market.