First-Year Students Are Matriculated Into The College And I Dislocate My Ankle, Twice

[Belated post]

What a day. The second day off from classes saw the students become official first-years at the chapel. Up to this point their status on campus was simply known as “freshers”, their official enrollment was not settled until this day. I had thought the term freshers was just used to denote all first-year students but I learned that this was not the case and that the second-years will now refer to them from hence forth as first-years.

We met at the chapel somewhere past 9 and awaited the Bishop's arrival. Today was also marking the observance of St. Francis Xavier's birthday, or something to that effect. It was a day to memorialize the patron saint of the school and to make various prayers heard for all those on campus. To say that this ceremony was long would be an understatement. It was a full mass which included the induction of about 20 students as full-fledged, christened Catholics. That must have been about an hour unto itself, let alone the mass portion and then the induction of the freshers into the college.

Yet the school's choir has a way of picking me up and keeping me happy all the while with their songs and drumming. A few songs I am getting to know now and hum along which is heartening. I don't know what they are singing yet but maybe that will come with time as most songs are in English.

After the Bishop closed out the service the teachers met in the staff room on the second floor of the administration building for lunch. I was treated to my favorite mineral, Malta, and then two plates of food. One a rice and salad dish, and the other banku and okro stew. That hit the spot and got me nice and fat. I made me way out after it appeared several were departing and I headed home for a small rest in anticipation of some outdoor volleyball on the basketball court.

I hopped on the court and started in the back-left position before the game got going. Someone suggested I switch with Augustine and so I did, to the front row on the left. First serve to our team and we bump a bit off and the setter floats one to me out at the 10 foot line. I hit it. The other side bumps it easily and sets the ball to my side for their hitter who has some room to make a jump at it. I went up to block and from here the day changes drastically.

I don't know if the hitter came under the net, meaning his feet would land under where my feet would touch again, but the only thing I really know for sure was that my ankle rolled as severely as it ever has in my entire life. All my weight came down on the right ankle is it turned and turned and turned. I knew it was bad, but there was an awful kink feeling in the right leg and and I could sense that my foot was not back to its normal position. I lay on the concrete for two seconds before the one referee on my side gets his hand on my foot. I knew by this point that it was dislocated and my instinct was just to hold my leg above the ankle and grimace like there was no tomorrow. The ref, with my foot in his hand, pulled on it and it went back into place.

And that was the end of my game. One play and done. I stayed down for a while and then some students helped me over to some shade where staff members kept me laughing and trying to distract my focus from the swelling. A bit of ice and I think it was oddly manageable for the pain.

Then the school “masseuse” came.

Are you curious why there need to be quotes there? Yes, I don't know the qualifications here for being a masseuse, but he offered to help and everyone seemed to agree that this was the best thing for me. Do you know what you should do to a sprain because I seem to recall the advice as an acronym: ICE. Ice, compress, and elevate. I now know that there is no mention of Manipulate in that acronym. Sure enough the friend at the other end of my foot moved it around, each time flexing it a bit more until his last motion did the inevitable. He moved my foot far enough to the left (this is my right ankle) to dislocate it again.

I yelled out pretty vociferously that this was not good at all, and that it hurt like blue blazes until he held onto it enough where I could yank the leg back enough to put the foot right. To which those around me who had now just heard me curse with a bit of gusto in the lungs started to laugh a great deal. I guess it was kind of funny, but I told the nice man that he could call it a day and that my ankle was now off limits.

As I write the size of the bulge is, dare I say, impressive. I have a cold compress and some elevation and a lot more time to spend inside the house for a while here. So much for volleyball for a while as it looks like I will be catching up on a few good books from here on out.