Club Foot

Well, Betsy finally went to the doctor. Her big arguments for not going were, first, that it takes too long at the doctor. She has finals for god's sake! She can't waste time in the ER!! Also, of course, her ankle is fine, so why should she go?

Lo and behold, the wait wasn't actually bad in the ER. She was just phoning my mom to tell her they put her in a room almost immediately (perhaps the sight of her enormously grotesque and deformed ankle moved them to action) when they towed her away for x-rays.

She isn't broken. Just has a bad sprain. She keeps saying that it's getting better. Looks better to me...
This whole thing is reminiscent of the time we were all at my family's cabin in Welsboro hiking. Betsy was doing some sort of chicken dance and fell and injured herself. I was without health insurance at the time and quite shaken up as Corey had to carry her up the hill and out of the forest. We took her back inside the cabin and iced her ankle with the best solution we could find--a giant plastic penis some jokester in my extended family had hidden in the cabin. We left it in the freezer for a bit and held it to my sister's foot as she wailed about the injustice in the world.