(The local story, I mean, the hyperlocal story — The Story is the murder of a Minneapolis civilian by state forces.)
Yesterday, as noted, I fell on my way to Morning Prayer and wrenched my ankle. I had run earlier with no difficulty, but in dressing for the day I put on dress shoes rather than trainers, no treads vs high treads, and didn’t stop to consider the difference that might make (did make). It was a good fsall, not a silent-movie pratfall but a Keanu Reeves lean-backward in slow motion till (in my case) my centre of gravity just toppled. The instant bio-anæsthesia of shock response buffered my sense of what had happened for a good while; I went on to the service, then for coffee, then for a couple of meetings (at which the Team Rector, bless her, insisted that I elevate my foot), then a funeral and stoipped by the grocery to obtain a bag of frozen peas (i.e., ‘ice pack’), but by the time I got home, my ankle was barking ferociously, and I spent the rest of the afternoon either sitting with my foot up or resting with my foot actually over the rest of my body. My foot swelled, my ankle hurt acutely, and I was wondering about going to the local A&E when morning came.
After a really good night’s sleep during which my foot was especially elevated much of the time, I woke up feeling wporlds better. I seem to have escaped significant damage, and although my foot is swollen and bruised, naproxen and rest mean that I haven’t felt meaningful pain today at all. In fact, the greater pain has come from my right knee, which hadn’t bothered me at all yesterday (and even that is just minor). It seems as if I flexed just short of the point of tearing or breaking, for which thanks be to heaven.
I’m continuing to take things easy today, staying home, inside, with my foot up as much of the time as I can bear to. It’s discoloured, may bruise in a while, but for the time being I think Ijust stretched everything. No running for a serious while, though, I expect.