Purple Toes

This past weekend Rus and I had a few days to ourselves...my mom supplied as the babysitter, two motorcycles for entertainment, an astro van loaded with a mattress, food, and gear, (no maps - whoops, Rus), and a vague idea of where we were going and what we were doing. Rus loves to be "fluid." Meaning flexible. He'd just say that, but he's an engineer and unwilling to dumb things down for the rest of us some times.
Thursday we said goodbye, headed south, had lunch at a great little place in Magdalena, took some pictures of windmills on the way down (Rus has a sort of obsession), on a road Rus had never been on before (that never happens),and stopped at Monticello box canyon with plans to ride our motorcycles there. But the sky looked like this, and the canyon is full of this, so we thought it smarter to save that for another day.

We headed south and west and finally pulled over on the side of the road just past Poverty Creek at a dirt road that looked fun so we could enjoy the bikes. We rode about eight miles in until we ran into a barbed wire fence and had to turn around. We had gone only about a mile when I rounded a corner, realized I was going too fast, panicked, locked the front brakes, and got a close up view of the ground rushing past my helmet. I felt my toes get crunched and the first thing I had Rus do after he turned off my bike was take off my already half-off boot. (Fashion Born boot, not a motorcycle boot...good lookin,' not so tough.) Then he took off my sock to reveal crinkle cut toes - all my little toes just looked smooshed, almost like a bike had fallen and smooshed them into the ground...wait...(here they are, three days later)

He made me put my boot back on so it wouldn't swell too much and not fit anymore. Then he had me show him my arm were a nasty bruise currently resides, but besides that I was fine. Well I was in maybe a teeny bit of shock, nauseous and shaky and about to cry but trying to not look like a wimp. Rus wanted me to get back on the bike and finish out the seven mile to the van, and while the Rambo Keri wanted to be accommodating, the Broken Keri was a wimp and rode out on the back of Rus's bike, leaving my bike off to the side of the road, alone. When we got back to the van (alive!) Rus wanted to go back right away and get the other bike. Rambo Keri would've said yes, but Broken Keri crawled into the back of the van (yay for the mattress!), and cried while Rus secured his bike.
It took us two hours to get to Truth or Consequences to the ER, (we saw a beautiful rainbow!)and in that time Rus almost lost his bike when a strap snapped in the rain, going 50mph. Somehow his bike stayed on the trailer and just got a nice dent in the gas tank (which he has wanted to replace anyway...are you keeping up with his new toy list? Boots, check. Bigger, better gas tank, check.)
Anywho, to make a long story short, we made friends at the ER who told me that my two little toes were broken, my next toe was okay, the next toe was "probably" dislocated, and "maybe" there was a fracture in my big toe. I don't know where they got that guy but he was gooood. I left with crutches, a funky bottom cast/ace bandage doohookey, and vicatin. The nice guy that Rus is put me up in a hotel that night. A second floor hotel room. In a hotel without an elevator. Not complaining here. Just stating the facts. I proved to Rus that I was really in pain by not sleeping well that night, despite my regular intake of vicatin.
Okay I want to insert here that day two of our trip might sound a little one sided. And it is. This is my blog, right? (And of course there was a day two, we had a sitter at home! No way we could cut this thing short!) On day two we headed back the two hours to get my bike back. I spent this time alternately trying to keep my foot elevated, my stomach down, and my head from snoozing. I found I did not like vicatin at all. I was happy to stop and let Rus out to fetch my bike just so I could crawl in the back and take a nap. I kinda wished he had taken longer, actually. Our awesome astro van made it in far enough on that wonderfully rutted-bumpy-muddy road that Rus only had to hike a mile to get the bike. The Lord held off quite a thunder storm until he got everything tied down and secured, and then we headed back out to the main road.
Then we drove.
And drove.
For Five. More. Hours.
On dirt roads.
Bumpy roads.
Windy roads.
Do you know how hard it is to keep your foot elevated in the front of an astro van? Mine hung out the window most of the day, except for when my butt got too numb. I even had to apply sunblock to my toes. Here I am taking a break and showing off my bruise.The scenery was absolutely beautiful. We were on a road that bordered the Gila Valley Wilderness area on one side and the Aldo Leopold Wilderness area on the other. We passed Wall Lake (more like Wall-Large-Pond). It was breathtaking. And super remote. We passed two cars the entire time. And it was totally fine that there was no place to eat lunch because I was nauseous anyways! (silver lining, right?)
Needless to say, when we got to Silver City we went no further. And the next day, after a wonderful day with Lloyd and Carolyn in Lordsburg (a.k.a. the convalescent home: Carolyn was recovering from gall bladder surgery, Lloyd has a broken wrist in a cast, and then there was me with my gimp foot), we headed back up to Los Lunas. Via the freeway. Rus hated it, it was such a smooth, boring ride.
The best thing about this whole "vacation" was Rus. He really is my best friend, and as much as I have teased him and despite breaking my toes, I really did have fun with him this weekend.
Plus now I have this awesome story. :)