It happened while I was doing the drill in which I had to be the prima donna. I jumped over a fallen tree, and my right ankle just couldn't bear it.
"What's happening?"
"It's my right ankle again."
"Are you in pain, or is it only bothering?"
"I think... well, it hurts."
"Describe how it's hurting, please."
"Wow, how is it hurting? Like every ankle hurts when it's hurting!"
"Can you be more specific, please?"
"No, I'm in pain, damn it!"
"Nadeena..."
"I'm sorry, Bran. I know it's not your fault."
And so I told him the story of my ankle.
When I was young, I broke my right leg -the tibia and the fibula- in four parts. It was a stupid accident. I woke up during the morning, around 5 am. I was half awake and half asleep, but I needed to go to the toilet. Suddenly, I tripped over something and fell. I heard a "crrrrack" in my leg, somewhere under the skin. And then I felt as if somebody had stabbed a knife into my right tibia!
The pain was simply unbearable and just wouldn't let me make a simple step. And as the appearance of my leg, well, it was incredibly swollen, and there was a huge stain growing bigger; it was bluish purple - or of some colour between black and violet.
The pain was simply unbearable and just wouldn't let me make a simple step. And as the appearance of my leg, well, it was incredibly swollen, and there was a huge stain growing bigger; it was bluish purple - or of some colour between black and violet.
I couldn't walk for over eight months. I had to use crutches for some time, but before that, I'd had to move around on a wheelchair. The bones doctor said my leg needed an operation, but right then it was a bad time -it couldn't have been more inconvenient, actually- and I was too young and idiotic, so I chose not to be operated on. Bad move! As a consequence of a wrong decision, my bones didn't fix suitably, and I was spraining my ankle all the time.
It was too hard to forgive myself for causing such a terrible damage -and I'm talking about the accident here, not about my bad choice- on one of my legs. I wasn't sure I'd been able to overcome such a hard and painful experience by the time I told Bran the whole story.
What had I tripped over? A toy. A stupid toy!
So Bran started sharing his own story withe me... In fact, it was the story of Carl Curtis McMahon.
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