I fell a week ago. Not heroically, ‘in the line of duty’ as Dries did, but I simply got up from my chair too quickly, became dizzy and found myself on the floor with my right foot in agony. I bandaged it up and hopped along the next couple of days.
The Malagasy people have this belief that you can massage any ailment or pain away. As soon as I arrived at school and people noticed that I could hardly walk, the advice started rolling in. “Have you been for a massage?” The question was accompanied by some vigorous hand movements. I cringed inwardly, because I have seen that even broken bones get massaged with obvious disastrous results. The other problem is that everyone seems to be a specialist and yes, the first one to offer her massaging talents, was the lady who sells vegetables next to the school. And from there it continued, I could have had my foot massaged by the tuc-tuc driver, the gardener and the security guard at the bank. After a while, all signs of sympathy seemed to have disappeared when I did not agree to submit myself to this ‘miracle cure’. I lumbered along until a week after my mishap.
On Monday afternoon, on my way home from school, I stopped at the Italian clinic to see if I could have an X-ray done. I was the only patient at the time. So far, so good. I limped into the X-ray room and wondered how I would position myself onto the little platform. Well, the operator promptly gave me a demonstration. He lowered himself down on to the floor, lifted up his one leg and placed his foot on the screen. Honestly, I thought he was joking. Apparently not. After lowering myself to join the guy on the floor, I frantically struggled to keep my skirt from sliding down with one hand while balancing on the other elbow, simultaneously with one leg in the air. I gave up on maintaining any kind of dignity when I noticed how muddy my toes were as I placed my foot on the screen.
So, the operator busied himself in front of the computer screen while I managed to get back up. I asked him whether he could see any broken bones. “I don’t know, but maybe madame can have a look and tell me.” My response was to ask him to go and find a DOCTOR who might be able to interpet the X-ray. The doctor did not want to commit to a diagnosis, but said that a cast might work. My level of confidence faltered at that point to ‘whatever’. Just put the cast on and let me get out of there, but please could I have something to wipe the mud off my foot. I was assured that that would not be necessary. Seriously! I was having none of that. I dragged myself to the shower I saw at reception and washed my feet which I had to then dry with my skirt.
I have a bright yellow cast on my foot which was applied by two very friendly young people while we chatted about our school and ministry. Unfortunately, the medical skills simply did not match up.
Some crutches were lent to me by a friend, but getting around is almost impossible because of the uneven ground. Please pray that my foot will heal quickly.
Maybe I should have listened to the ‘experts’. Massaging your troubles away, doesn’t sound so bad after all.