“So, it looks like that dive of yours did a little damage. Was it the slide? Was it a pivot, a dip, a two-step?”
Kenya tried to smile alongside him, but the uncertain fate of her ankle made it hard to muster one up.
The doctor cleared his throat. “Looks like you have tearing in the anterior talofibular and partial tearing in the calcaneofibular ligament.”
Say what now?
“Otherwise known as a sprain, which is on the verge of getting worse.”
Kenya groaned, covering her face with her hands. She sensed the doctor stepping closer but couldn’t bear to open her eyes. Maybe it was a bad dream that would go away.
“Thankfully all three ligaments around your ankle didn’t tear or you would be looking at six to twelve weeks of recovery. And possibly a date with a surgeon,” he continued, undeterred by her avoidance. “Now, if it had been a clean break, this would be a little easier to deal with, actually, but at least I don’t have to put you in a cast.”
Kenya peeked at him through her fingers. “Okay, that doesn’t sound so bad. I can still wear normal shoes, right?”
He shook his head. “Not so fast there. What wedoneed is to wrap this ankle for support and for the swelling to go down. Then I highly recommend physical therapy that will help your ankle regain strength to prevent further injury.”
“But I don’t have the time for that.” Kenya tried her best not to reduce herself to elementary level, but her words still came out as a whine.
“As young as you are, take the time you need right now. There are too many older women and men like me who end up needing some form of surgery because of their weakened joints and muscles.”
Her mother nodded her head slowly as he continued to talk. Kenya’s thoughts grew louder, scenarios and solutions jostling to be heard over well-meaning but insufficient instructions from the doctor.
I can wrap this up tight,iceit at night,and then take ibuprofen to get throughthe week. I’ll wear the zip-up booties thatwere a little too wide anyway to give me enoughroom for the wrap. Dedra can make sure everything isset for the presentation,and all I have to dois come in,dazzle them like I always do,andthis proposal will be...
“Did you get all that?”
Kenya blinked away her scurrying thoughts. No, she didn’t, but she gave the doctor a wide grin and a thumbs-up anyway. He tucked his clipboard under his arm. “All right, well, you sit tight.”
“No problem with that.” She grimaced.
“In the printout of instructions, I’ll also include a prescription for pain meds to dull the sharpness over the next few days, and then you should be good to go.”
Okay, she could work with that. Despite the throbbing in her ankle, she felt a little hopeful as the doctor exited.
Her mother didn’t look as convinced.
“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”
Mama sighed. At least now maybe some of the tension would release. Kenya blinked at the ceiling, the meds a nurse had given her earlier dulling the pain but making her nauseous in the process.
“I wouldn’t say it like that. That sounds a bit too dramatic for my taste.” The padded chair squeaked under her shifting form.
“So you’re not upset, but by the look on your face, are you a little bit?” She was a glutton for punishment.
“Frustrated, yes. I told you from the beginning those shoes would be the death of you.”
“Mama, they were for a wedding! Adanne’s wedding. Why wouldn’t I wear my favorite pair of shoes for my favorite cousin’s wedding? And before you said they would lead to a fall, you did tell me that you thought they were cute.”
Mama harrumphed and crossed her arms, her clutch-sized purse still dangling from its chain strap over her shoulder, as if they hadn’t been here for over an hour. They might have still been in the waiting room if Dr. Solomon hadn’t said whatever he had to the head nurse.
Kenya wished she hadn’t seen that exchange because now she owed him some thanks.
“Kenya, you know good and well no matter how cute those shoes were, they had no business on that dance floor with you.”
The words stung even though Kenya tried to mentally swat them away like flies.
“I understand your disappointment, Mama. I’m alwaysfallingshort of expectations.” Kenya turned her head toward her mother, her expression deadpan.
