I'm lying in bed with my foot and ankle in bandages, lying on a pillow. I've had a terrible night. Every time I turned in my sleep my ankle hurts like hell and wakes me up, just as it did a minute ago.
As I turn my head I see that there is a glass of water and some Advil on my nightstand. Thank God for painkillers, my ankle is killing me.
After an hour staring up at the ceiling I'm really bored out of my mind. And to make matters worse I need to go to the bathroom and I'm really hungry. I really need to call for help really soon before I wet myself, but I don't want to. I know that if I do it will be the most embarrassing thing ever, because it will be Christian who has to lift me up and bring me to the bathroom. I would rather die than have him help me to go potty like a two year old.
But I really need to go… "CHRISTIAN, ARE YOU UP!?"
Last night when I hit the pavement Christian and his security guy helped me into the car and brought me to the e.r. After they had taken x-rays and a scan; they found out that my ankle wasn't broken, just badly sprained and that I had torn my Achilles. So they made a nice white lump of my foot with lots of bandages, tape and stuff. After that they gave me crutches and painkillers and said I wasn't allowed to stand on my foot for the next four weeks. They gave me crutches and a prescription for painkillers and sent me home.
Christian had stayed with me the whole two hours in the e.r.-unit and then told me he was taking me home and that I needn't worry, he would take care of everything.
At that point I just wanted to go home so I just let him take me. But it turned out that with home he meant his own appartement, not mine. So after a couple of futile arguments I just let him put him in his spare bedroom and decided to just go to sleep and hope it was all a bad dream.
So now I'm lying here in this bedroom with nothing to do and I really need to go to the bathroom. "CHRISTIAN!"
When the door opens a woman pushing a wheelchair walks in. "Good morning, I'm Gail, Christians housekeeper. We figured you would need to go to the bathroom, so he asked me to help you. If it's okay with you".
"You're a life-saver, thank you."
With some help from Gail, I manage to get into the wheelchair and she takes me to the bathroom. Getting out of the wheelchair and on to the toilet is difficult and awkward enough but Gail has to hold me while I pull my undies up before I can get back in the wheelchair. Thank God for Gail, because I would have probably died of shame if Christian had been there to help me.
After the whole awkward toilet experience and the even more awkward shower-session (you just try to have a relaxing shower while sitting on a stool, you're leg wrapped in a special plastic shower-bag-thingy with a complete stranger next to you) we finally manage to get me in some clothes. It turned out Christian tought off everything because when I came out of the shower we found some bags containing lounge-pants, tops, sweaters and underwear.
He turns out to be quit the gentleman.
When Gail wheeled me into the kitchen, Christian was already sitting at the table. He turned to me with a sweet smile. "Good morning, did you sleep well?
"Ehm, as well as can be with this ankle I guess, thanks. "
"I have some work to do, so I'll be in my office. Come see me when you've finished your breakfast. If there is anything you need in the meantime, just ask Gail. Enjoy your breakfast and I'll see you later".
And with that he gets up and walks out of the kitchen.