I hate being flat footed!

I don't normally dwell on this...except when I'm reminded of it. Throughout my 40 years, I've had some accidents that can be blamed on this inborn "defect", if I can call it that. I won't go into detail because while it may sound funny to a lot of people (how I've fallen in the most public of places), I hate to sometimes recall how these things happened because of the embarassment these past experiences have caused (more painful on the pride than on the body, is what I mean). To put it bluntly, I am probably the most LAMPA person on the planet!

My latest "escapade" involving my flat feet happened last Friday at work. I had never been to the property site, the one which my office is developing right across our corporate building. It was a Friday and I was dressed casually (note : flat thong sandals) so I figured it was the best time to go and check things out. The place is still dusty, with lots of things scattered on the floor and construction materials just about everywhere. I managed to grab a face mask, couldn't find a hard hat (apparently, the law is not very strict about that here unlike in the States) but proceeded anyway. I hadn't been there for 10 minutes when it all happened. It was so quick! Before I knew it, I was sprawled on the floor with a bloody left arm. Apparently, I tripped over a steel bar. My right foot got caught while walking so I literally flew a few inches above floor-level and landed on uneven cement. In fact, the floor was still very rough, which is why my arm took quite a beating. It felt more like sliding into homebase. Everyone moved quickly, helped me up and took me to the nurses on the ground floor. I had to sit there for about 10 minutes because there was ringing in my ears and my vision became blurry --- surely I knew I was going to faint. Fortunately, because I chose to stay still, it didn't happen.

Back in my office, the nurse accompanied me so she could clean up my wound and that's where I realized how bad it was. Near my left elbow was a gigantic scrape. I surveyed it to see the real extent of the wound and I almost fainted again when I did. The nurse proceeded to clean it and I sat there, quietly wincing in pain. She refused to dress it at first, saying it would heal much faster uncovered. But I insisted because it looked too gross to expose. My knee was also badly hurt. Good thing I was wearing jeans (which were not damaged at all === hurrah for F21!!!), which prevented abrasions BUT my right knee took quite a beating as well. It's swollen as I type and I can't put too much pressure on it when walking up and down the stairs.

I'm really worried that the wound might leave a nasty scar. But I guess I'll worry about that later. Meantime, it's been such hard work just to shower and I really hate it everytime I need to clean and re-dress it. This will be part of my daily get up from now on, until I can manage to be without it...

Bummer, right?