Catching Up #4: How to break a leg ringing in the new year

In my forth "catch up" post I talk about New Years, and why my life will be more difficult for the next couple of months.
















To start off New Year's Eve, a bunch of the people that I worked decided to go out to TGIFriday's for a New Year's dinner. I had fajitas. Two of our teachers, Crystal and Karly, were leaving, and this was their last night in Korea. Crystal's on the left, and that's Rainbow Brite (Kat) on the left. I had a hard time talking over her, because she was so loud (in both her scary attire and her voice).

There is a point where too much make-up is just not good, even if it's meant for fun. This is an example of going way beyond the point of funny. :D
















Clockwise from the top-right is Candace, Crystal, Rainbow Brite, Nathan, Helen, Karly and Jax.
















Here's Matt, and... I forget her name. Maybe someone can remind me (Dave...?).
















Champane!
















Party Hats!
















Champane and beer!
















More party hats!
















Sparklers!
















Both Matt and I took our New Year's kisses out on her.
















I look awesome here! Multiple party hats kick ass! I'm so happy! (not for long!)
















I will never go dancing on New Years again. Never. I will probably eat those words next year. For now though, I'm saying that I'm never going to dance on New Year's again. This is why:

Actually, I will re-phrase that. I have no problem with dancing on New Year's.

I will never attempt a back-flip on New Years again. Not even if I get a boost from an Irish guy named Pater. Never.

It was probably about an hour and a half into 2006, and I was feeling great. Well, as great as one can after starting out with Jack and Cokes for supper, progressing to beer, and then going at the champane for an hour and a half. I was doing so great, that I though I was a ninja. I real, honest-to-goodness ninja. To prove this, I told Pater, the local drunken Irish guy, to give me a boost, so that I could do a real, honest-to-goodness ninja backflip.

I finished the backflip by landing on my left leg, feeling a craaaack, then falling to the floor in pain. Of course, I tried to get right back up and keep on doing whatever I though I should be doing. I fell right back down. Apparently, falling down again was my left leg's way of telling me "you asshole, don't even think of trying to walk with me!".

So, I figured that I should sit down and rest for five minutes or so. When I stood back up, I had the same problem. My left leg just didn't want to do anything useful! So, I hobbled around on my right leg, and said goodbye to everyone that I felt like saying goodbye too. I took the elevator downstairs and dragged myself into the convenience store across the street. I decided that I should buy some ice to wrap around my, now throbbing in pain, left leg. I then "walked" for a couple of blocks until I found a taxi. Home I went, and off to bed.

When I woke up, I found myself experiencing an extreme amount of pain. I decided to call Richard, one of the managers at the school, and tell him to take me to the hospital, or there would be no way that I'd be working on Monday (I ended up not working on Monday anyway).

So, Richard drove over and took me to a hospital. After an x-ray, I found out that the reason that my leg hurt so bad was because I broke it. My fibula was nicely broken in half.

To make a long story short, I spent Monday and Tuesday lying around with a tensor bandage in bed, then spend January 16th to 19th in the hospital. My leg was operated on, on Monday the 16th. I had a titanium plate screwed into the bone to hold it together. I don't have a cast, it's just all bandaged up splinted up. I'm on crutches right now. I should be able to walk, lightly, in 3-4 weeks (as of one week ago).