Broken-Hearted and Broken-Footed

I have to see an orthopedic surgeon tomorrow.

To quote a friend: "But that's the most expensive surgeon of all! My husband was going to be an orthopedic surgeon before he decided to become a professor... yeah, we regret that mistake all the time..."

I was going to write a quirky post about the ironic fun of breaking my big toe and driving my car into a ditch in a two-day span, mocking up my mishaps Bridget Jones-style and dubbing myself Calamity Jane, only without the guns (and without the anti-Native American rhetoric).

But mostly I am feeling miserable about two aspects:

1. How am I going to pay for this? (The first thing out of my doctor's mouth after she told me that I needed to see a surgeon was "and your insurance won't cover it.")

and

2. How long will it be before I can start doing yoga again? (Not doing regular stretchies makes Blue very cranky. Friends can attest.)

It's really weird to be sitting here knowing that there's a bone broken somewhere inside of me. The strange thing is that it doesn't hurt at all. Which makes me, probably, very lucky.

w00t lucky!