Note from the Narc – Please enjoy this guest essay by the newest unofficial member of the Gimp Mode Squad: Mrs. Narc
Some five weeks ago, the Climbing Narc and I took our climbing team to a bouldering competition in Illinois. It was suggested that I compete, and being the bouldering fanatic that I am, I agreed. With a mere 20 minutes left in the 3 hour competition, I took a fall. Falling is just part of the game; I’m not afraid to fall and have lived to tell about a number of them (no thanks to my less than attentive bouldering partner – insert the Climbing Narc). This fall was different. The moment I hit the ground I heard a pop and fell to my knees.
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Despite the immediate bruising, my inability to walk or bear weight on my right foot and the searing pain, I fooled myself into believing that nothing serious had happened. After all, I had a trip to Horse Pens 40 planned in five days.
By the following evening there was no denying the seriousness of my injury. Something was wrong. The Climbing Narc took me to Dr. #1. My ankle was x-rayed, the results of which were inconclusive.
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A second opinion was needed – not a good sign.
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The long and short of the next two days was that my ankle was sprained and that after some rest I should be fine.
Fast forward four weeks. The day I had long awaited arrived. I had put in my four weeks of “off time” and per Dr. #2 I was able to climb. As any dedicated climber would do, I climbed in spite of the discomfort and told myself that the searing pain was only part of the healing process – hey, I hadn’t climbed or seen my ankle bone in four weeks, I was just happy to fit into my climbing shoe. Just when I thought life was on the upswing, I got a phone call from Dr. #1 checking in on my recovery. He still felt I had fractured my ankle and suggested a second, well third, opinion.
Enter Dr. #3 and the boot of doom. Dr. #2 correctly diagnosed a high ankle sprain, but completely missed the fracture of the posterior malleolus. Now, because of the fact that I’ve been walking (and shhh, climbing) on my fractured ankle for five weeks, I have been sentenced to a boot of doom. The cool part, according to the Narc, is the inflatable bladders inside of the boot that help immobilize my ankle and foot. A favorite line around the house, and the Narc’s way of being helpful, is to inquire if my tire pressure needs adjusting.
Like any teacher, I look to find lessons in life. What I have learned as a result of this incident is as follows: Don’t fall and get a second opinion…or a better spotter.