If you take an Evil Joy to a Parent versus 10 year old Travel Team softball game…
She’ll want to play ball.

She’ll go up to bat and “Squeeeee!” as the ball flies past – (these young’uns throw fast and hard). On the next pitch, she’ll hit the ball.

When she hits the ball, Evil Joy will run to first while covering the back of her head because she’s afraid of the ball (with good reason).

Once she’s on base another parent will hit the ball. She’ll run to second base….

Or will she?

I ended up hop/skipping to the next base after a few steps. I felt my arch pop. Then start to cramp and hurt. I got to second base and stood there rotating my ankle and trying to stretch out my foot……..And told the girls’ coach I needed a runner – I was done for. I hopped to the stands and sat down. I peeled off my sock and shoe. And there was a dent in my arch. An honest to God dent. And a swollen area under it.

I sat for an hour with some of the parents and tried to roll it out on a cold water bottle. That hurt like a mother so I settled for resting the water bottle on my foot. I finally said “Uncle” asked Dr. Evil to take me to the ER.

I tried to walk to the car. HAHAHAHAHA! That was funny. I thought positive thoughts. I envisioned it happening. And was carried to the car by two awesome mamas on the team. Yes, two women hauled my arse to the car.

After several x-rays I was informed I have no broken bones and “Barbie Doll” feet. Now is is awesome – no broken bones – and hilarious “Barbie Doll” feet. I have feet the width of a howitzer. I wear a size 7 (barely – yes – I can wear children sized shoes) and have an extra, extra wide foot. With ridiculously high arches. I am going to carry the “Barbie Doll” feet thing to my grave as it’s the one and only time anyone has ever or will ever say that about my Fred Flintstone feet!

Next step…MRI. Had that mid-week. I’m not a huge fan of small spaces. But it went okay…and now….we wait.

Until 3:30 today. I will find out I’m just a weenie and will be fine in a few days. That’s what I’m going with. I will gladly wear the title of “Supreme Weenie” if it means I’ll be back to normal in a week or less.

The lesson here is…..

If you take Evil Joy to ball, eventually she’s going to end up at the emergency room.

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