The whole thing is really kind of embarrassing. After we left Ancient Culture Street, we walked down the street to this shopping center that had a Starbucks in it, to get a cup of coffee, and to chat a bit. While we were there, I had to use the restroom, which was up a floor from the Starbucks.
The thing about most Chinese public restrooms is that the stalls are usually a step or two up from the main floor of the room. You go in, walk up a couple stairs, open the stall door, and do your thing. Which is fine. Except when I walked out of the stall last night, my mind was totally somewhere else; I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, and I completely forgot about the two steps down from the stall. I basically just walked straight out as if I were walking on an even floor. Needless to say, I took a pretty hard fall, and when I did, I felt something pop in my left ankle, and then a lot of pain.
And of course, I created quite a spectacle, which is even more embarrassing. I very soon had about 10 Chinese women hovering around me, including one woman who was trying to pull me up to stand up. Except my ankle hurt too badly to hold my weight. And I was crying. And the woman wasn't giving up on the idea of me standing up--she was very insistent, despite the fact that I kept telling her I couldn't stand. And I was having a very difficult time trying to remember how to say anything in Chinese, so they were tugging on me, and I was refusing to stand, and I was sobbing, and they were all talking a million miles a minute, and I wasn't answering, and more women kept walking in, and hovering. I don't know how long this went on before I finally just forced myself to stand up and hobble out of there.
Getting myself home from there was kind of an ordeal. I had to walk a little, just to get back down to the Starbucks where Ben was, and then to get out to the street to get a taxi. And for some reason (probably because we were so near Ancient Culture Street, which draws a lot of tourists) none of the taxi drivers wanted to use the meter to take us home--they all wanted to bargain on a price, and they all wanted us to pay extravagant amounts. And I really wasn't in the mood to bargain.
We did finally find a sympathetic driver, and we made it home. We live in a fourth floor walk-up, so Ben had to carry me up to our apartment. By the time we got home, my ankle had swelled up like a purple puffer-fish, so I've been icing it and popping ibuprofen like tic-tacs ever since. I couldn't put any weight on it at all last night, but I can hobble around on it a little today, as long as I walk a certain way, and I take very small steps. I'm not sure the picture below really does it justice, but you can see the big, swollen lump on the outside of my left ankle there, and the kind of purplish bruising around it, on my foot. Those aren't supposed to be there.
I'm very sure the ankle is not broken. In fact, I think I know what's wrong with it--I've injured this same ankle in pretty much the same way (although never in a Chinese bathroom) several times in the past. But, to be safe, Sam is taking me to see a doctor this afternoon, (which should be another event worth blogging about) possibly to get some X-rays, and hopefully some kind of brace or wrap or crutches or something to make life a bit more bearable.
I don't even want to think about how I'm going to get to and from class on Monday. Sheesh.
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