plans are made to be broken: Saturday night at the emergency room

And speaking of broken, I got another one of those I've fallen and I can't get up calls from Miss Annie. This time, though, it was serious. Chris and I were on our way home from the grocery store, so ice cream be damned, we mounted the rescue team.

We found her sprawled on the living room floor, where she had dragged herself to open the door. Chris and I were going to try and spare her the ambulance, but it became clear to us immediately that there was no way we were going to be able to carry Annie and her flopping ankle to my car, so the 911 adventure began.

Let me begin by noting that in today's world of diversity and political correctness and Americans with Disabilites Act stuff (which is a GOOD thing, don't flame me), the ambulance driver clearly had a disability that not only impeded his speed and movement, but made it impossible to carry the gurney out of the house and down the steps. So, our heroes called another set of heroes, the fine men down at the fire station. They parked the big red shiny engine on the street, because, well, there was no way they were getting up the hill. Then, they scaled Pride Rock rather than walk around the driveway. I guess they get their training anywhere they can.

The adventure ended with a picture of Annie in the gurney, because despite the obvious pain and freaky angle of her foot, she was determined to be a hostess for the 7 men that were surrounding her. Oh, and they were ever so genteel by turning around while Chris and I stripped the pantyhose off of Annie. Mental note: next time just cut the buggers off.

The emergency room was a saga unto itself, as a broken ankle doesn't rate up there with the other maladies and emergencies, including Code Blues and the PA announcement that had to have been distressing to the mother-to-be, "If there is an obstetrician anywhere in the building please report to the emergency room." How would you like to hear that between contractions?

Her nurse was a pleasant woman, named aptly enough, Linda, and she had the winning ticket when they finally authorized some morphine for Annie. Let me just say that I'm sorry it didn't come before they took 80 x-rays of the ankle, knee, hip, and bank account. I was asked to step outside, and that's a good thing because I would have punched the woman when I happened to look through the window and see Annie writhing in pain because of some crazy angle the chick placed her in for the x-ray.

Anyway, the doctor was appropriately compassionate and professional and all. She's going to need surgery on Tuesday, once the swelling goes down. I imagine the rest of the evening went well. Once Elaine got there and they discovered I was not the daughter I was unceremoniously asked to step outside, so I went home.

It's just as well. They were going to set the ankle in a splint, without general anesthesia, just a sedative. I might have punched somebody.