I still can’t walk very well yet still no sign of bruising or swelling on my foot. It’s rather weird and I’m being accused of faking it to get out of lunchtime washing up. I’m not – honest! Geez, would I lie about having a constant dull pain? Would I really want to hobble around the house and take twice as long to get anywhere? Going to my room on the 2nd floor is now a trek and takes a good minute or so instead of the usual 35 seconds. Yeah, sure I’m faking it (!).
Dad offered to take me to hospital to x-ray it in case I’ve broken anything. I doubt it. I’m sure it’d hurt more and there’d be a swelling the size of a tennis ball. I don’t fancy spending the day in hospital anyway, especially since Heather’s still at home for the weekend. I agreed to let Dad bandage up my foot. He is a staunch believer in accelerating the healing process by bandaging up things. All I can say is now my foot is cold because my slipper doesn’t fit over the bandage.
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