I broke my toe last Saturday.
We just picked up a kid-sized guitar at a yard sale for my almost 4-year-old daughter. She was very excited to play it and couldn’t put it down. I thought it would be fun to break out the old bass guitar and “jam” with her. It has been a few years since I played it (closer to 10) but I still think of myself as a rock star, even if I am my only fan.
I threw the strap over my shoulder, reached for the neck and was ready to jam. Then I watched my beautiful Ibanez bass guitar plummet to the ground as if in slow motion. The strap was not completely attached to the bass like I thought. My horror of the impending destruction of my bass was quickly replaced by the shock of my middle toe fracturing from the impact. The bass landed on the center of my toe and then crashed to the floor. I dropped like a stone.
I am a wannabe runner (I run, but not as often as I would like) and was hoping to run a half marathon soon. So I went to the hospital to confirm my fear. And yes, it is broken.
Do ya know what they do for a broken toe? Nothing. They tape it to the toe next door and “hope it feels better soon.” Oh well. No half-marathon for me any time soon.
And I guess I’m not a rock star after all. 😦