While I did enjoy a great, hard workout that day, it had nothing to do with my ankle injury. That would make sense. Rather my injury occurred AFTER my workout. You know, during that really difficult thing called walking. Apparently, it's not one of my fortes. Ok, so I wasn't just walking. I was stepping off a big step moments after doing a killer ab routine. At any rate, my ankle buckled and rolled under me immediately. I then proceeded to use a string of expletives while willing myself not to cry. Needless to say I felt like a massive idiot.
Now, so I don't sound like a total uncoordinated loser, I will tell you my ankles quite frankly suck. After spending the majority of my life as a track athlete, my ankles finally said eff you and became the weakest thing ever. They pop when I move and make funny noises and generally just don't like me, especially my left ankle. My left was my take off foot for the long jump, triple jump and high jump. It's been very overworked. Of course this was the ankle I sprained. I'm pretty sure it was protesting its difficult life.
So there I was, ankle already swelling, as the gym attendants helped me hobble to the office. I've sprained my ankles a lot, but this was the first time I had to take a break from my hobbling so I didn't blow chunks everywhere. I was mildly alarmed by this. The sudden swelling and discoloration also alarmed me. Walking was apparently dangerous shit.
Eventually, I got ahold of a friend and had a ride home. Task number one, get my shift covered for the night. This appeared impossible. For some reason, girls at my Hooters have been less than helpful in covering shifts - especially shifts that really need to be covered. Like shifts that need to be covered when you can't walk. You know, important things. I panicked as my options dwindled and no one would help me. I was even more panicked when my GM didn't giving two shits about my ankle. I had to try and work an eight-hour shift on an ankle that had suddenly turned into a softball. I was screwed.
Luckily, as I was contemplating how I was going to get myself down from my third story apartment, my phone saved my life with one little text message. "You still need your shift covered?" Dear Lord, yes, yes I do! And just like that, fifteen minutes before I was scheduled, my shift was magically taken care of. My ankle rejoiced.
A few days later, I was finally back at work. Limping, but at work. Luckily, in addition to suddenly weak ankles, track taught me to effortlessly tape my ankles like a pro. So there I was taped up, limping and garnering tons of sympathy tips. As I was hobbling around, GM came up to me.
"You know it's a good thing you didn't get an air cast. We can't let you work with that. Anything you can see like that is not allowed because it's not Hooters approved."
I thought back to the summer when one of my friends had twisted her knee rather severely. She'd been forced to wear a knee brace by her doctor and was sent home from work because of it. It showed in the uniform and there for was not. I remember being outraged at the time. I remember thinking, well what if she'd had a broken arm? What if she'd needed a cast? Does one have to quit being a Hooters Girl due to injury? I'm pretty sure that they can't do that. After all a pregnant girl can work at Hooters. Why not one with an obvious injury?
Anyway, a week later my ankle is still swollen and still doesn't have a full range of motion. It's annoying, but it's healing. Don't worry, I'm working on that whole walking thing.