The Story Of The Broken Ankle - Christmas Day 2007

Let me start by saying it wasn't my fault. Always keep that in the back of your mind as you read this unfortunate tale. I was also completely sober.

It was Xmas Day 2007. We had 25 relatives from my wife's side of the family around to our new Gold Coast house.

The kids were having a great time in the backyard…first swimming in the pool, then jumping on the trampoline, and then swinging on the swings.

Two of my ‘little person’ relatives, Alex and Ethan, were taking turns counting down to “blast off” and jumping off the swing onto the grass.

Seeing “Uncle Wacko” lurking in the vicinity of the swing, they decided it would be fun if I had a turn.

So onto the swing I jumped. After a couple of warm up swings, the countdown started. With each count, I swung higher and higher…5, 4, 3, 2, 1…“blast off”.

It was right on “blast off” that I heard the first “crack”. It was the sound of a rope on the swing snapping. The breaking rope sent me flying through the air at a 45 degree angle to the ground.

My right ankle hit the ground, also landing in a small ditch. I then saw my right leg at a 90 degree angle to my right ankle. That’s when I heard the second “crack”.

Immediately I was rushed to bed, where my leg was placed in ice, 2 nurses were summoned from the backyard (the advantage of having so many relatives…there is always at least one nurse), and an ice cold VB beer was administered to help ease the pain. For clarification purposes, it was my first alcoholic drink of the day.

The nurses thought the ankle was sprained, and after a few more VB’s, I also convinced myself that the second “crack” was the sound of one of my relatives cracking open their first beer of the day and not that of my ankle breaking.

For the rest of Xmas day, I hobbled around and was fed and watered well by all the relatives. Meanwhile, my right ankle looked like someone had inserted a black egg under the skin.

I slept well, as you tend to do after plenty of VB’s and a couple of Voltaren pain killers.

Boxing Day dawned, the greatest day on the cricket calendar. The swelling in my ankle had somewhat subsided. Maybe those nurses were right.

After an hour of hobbling around, with the pain slowly increasing, even the tantalising prospect of sitting down in front of the TV watching the Boxing Day test from the MCG whilst being fed and watered all day was losing its attraction.

So off to the hospital I was taken. Three x-rays and an hour later I was home with my lower leg in plaster. Yes…the bone on the outside of my leg near the ankle was broken.

The prognosis? Six weeks in plaster, crutches, and a recommendation from the doctor to remain either seated or lying down, with leg in the air.

The rest of Boxing Day was quite good. The cricket was entertaining and compelling. There were still lots of relatives around to help keep me fed and keep the cold VB’s coming.

That night I slept well, again thanks to the big brown liquid sleeping pills.

Since then, the relatives have gone. My wife has been great, but I am thinking she’s a little over the requests for more food or more drinks, and she’s definitely over the tidying up. I wonder how she’ll cope with mowing the lawns next week, especially as she’ll then be 31 weeks pregnant.

I keep telling her the next month will be good practice for number 3. She doesn’t quite see it like that.

Anyway…the moral of the story is if the accident is not your fault, no one should begrudge you the caring and sympathy you so richly deserve!

Back to watching the cricket…cheers!