Two hundred and seventeen uneven stairs.
Up and down we went from our "happy place" bungalow to the beach,
to the restaurant,
and to the Wifi.
Happily two hundred and seventeen steps up and down, several times a day.
We were coming back from dinner. The dark sky and crashing waves added a layer mystery to the surrounding jungle as we hiked the stairs back to our bungalow. French Husband said, "It is a good thing I left the outside light on," then he raced a few steps ahead of me to open the door.
"Such a gentle man," I thought, as well as, "These stairs would detour many a folk, which is a pity because the view is amazing… I better be careful, Yann would be devastated if I fell right at the moment he left my side to open the door…"
And with that I tripped on step two hundred and sixteen. As I was going down thoughts raced through my head:
1) Yann is going to feel so responsible, and it isn't his fault!
2) I cannot scream, I don't want to wake anyone or cause alarm.
3) Oh God! The edge is so very near, please do not let me fall off into the sea below.
4) Oh my God, my head is going to hit the concrete edge, or worse my neck!
5) Yann is going to feel sick when he sees me on the ground.
I hit the ground with my head less than an inch from the concrete edge. My foot went into painful rage. I remained silently on the ground as French Husband turned to take my hand and lead me inside, instead he saw me sprawled out clutching my ankle.
Of course he instantly blamed himself saying, "As soon as I went to open the door I thought to myself, maybe I should stay by your side?" and then he thought, "No opening the door would be better, so you could see the last step."
Poor guy.
I had to tell him twenty times in a row,
"It is not your fault, and do NOT touch my foot."
He was dieing to touch it, why are moths attracted to the flame? I told him do not touch it because I will scream.
Then he felt worse because he knew I was not well.
The first night was terribly painful.
…………
The next morning we hiked two hundred and seventeen steps, then across the stones at the beach's entry, under the rocks with the tide breaking in, water galore. Such an adventure! Such pain! So slow going. One step than another. At the beach, which we had to cross to catch the boat. Oh the boat! A ladder suspended into the water, with the tides crushing in. Have you ever tried to climb a ladder into a ferry, with a twisted ankle, while tenderly gathering courage as your partner swims the seven seas with your suitcases on his back?
I thought, "Child birth was worse; really it was!" and then, "Damn stairs! This hurts without the reward of a baby!" I wished I had stronger arms.
French Husband had to lug the suitcases by himself, without me teasingly taking photos, or helping him. I should have packed far less.
We returned to Koh Samui were we knew I could hole up for a few days to heal. We went to Saboey Resort. Oh I loved the bungalow at Plaa's, but I love this place more to heal! We had dinner here before heading to the isolated beach. Only a handful of stairs.
When we arrived to Koh Samui we took a taxi from the boat to Saboey Resort. We walked in the resort looking nothing short of people who live on the streets. We were wet due to the storm that took place while on the ferry. We had sandy feet (I couldn't put my shoe on due to the swelling.), greasy windblown hair and looked miserable. Worse, French Husband wrapped my foot with his wet shirt on the boat, I don't known why, but he did. When we walked into the resort he remembered he didn't have his shirt on so he grabbed the dirty shirt which I had stuffed in my computer bag and put it on; It was the icing on the cake.
They did not take notice, or were to professional to stare.
Tomorrow we head to Bangkok. I plan to lay low, in hopes to recover. We thought about canceling the rest of our trip, but instead we will take it one day at a time. The pain has subsided, and I can walk…slowly, but not far. A few more days of rest should do the trick, or at least I am hoping it does.
Nothing is broken. The top and side of my foot is swollen and bruised badly.
Poor French Husband, two suitcases and a hop along wife…. what an adventure.
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