How I broke my Ankle and got Naked

Jenn from Maniacal Days wanted to know how I originally broke my ankle, so here's the story. Two years ago, as it was coming out of Winter, I was outside cleaning our in-ground pool. The older boys were outside, as was the dog, and whilst standing on the edge of the pool I turned to see what the boys were doing. At that point, I realised that there was no ground underneath one foot, so I attempted to jump in the air as I pivoted to try to reach solid ground. Of course, as I jumped with one leg, the other leg was entering the water. Unfortunately, the right side of my body was still over the edge of the pool, so my foot slammed back down onto the concrete edge, and I tumbled into the pool.

Being Winter, the pool wasn't exactly warm. On top of that, I was fully clothed. The cold shock hit, so I jumped out of the pool. I stripped off because I was wet, at the same time as I started screaming because of the intense pain shooting up my leg from my foot. The kids bolted, as they thought they were in trouble. The dog looked on amused. Anth came running out, because I'd started screaming "Help me, Help me, Help me! Argghh! Argghh! Argghh!" over and over again. She came out, saw me naked, and thought that I'd spilled hydrochloric acid on my body from cleaning the pool, so her first thought was to try to push me back in. I screamed at her not too, and then went back to screaming about the pain. She ran inside and got me some towels, and pulled me out of the fenced area trying to figure out what had happened. The neighbours has also come out, but on seeing me naked, had decided that Anth could sort it out herself as I was just being wacky again. As I got some sensibility back, she explained why she'd tried to push me into the pool, and I gradually calmed down enough to cover myself in towels and sit on a chair to get off my now swelling foot.

Being the stupid man I am I spent the rest of the day, a Sunday, bemoaning the pain but not going to hospital. I had a flight the next day to Melbourne, where I would be working for a week, so I didn't do anything about it. Fortunately, one of the people I was with was an ex-nurse, so she strapped it up for me whilst chastising me that I should have seen a doctor. It got better over the week, and I thought it was ok, until about 4 weeks after that when the pain "came back". Then I went to see a doctor, who organised X-rays, and then a specialist who told me that although I'd fractured it, it was healing of its own accord, so there was no need to put a cast on it.

The moral? Don't fall in your pool to get naked, its better to swim naked in the first place.

Ciao for Now, Naked Swimming Angry Dad.