Part Two

  Monday, Jan. 23rd. 7:00 am
"Baby, I think i need to go to the emergency room" were the first words I spoke that day. Shortly, after notifying my job about my ordeal, and that i couldn't come in, I was taken to a nearby hospital. After quite some time of waiting, i finally had an x-ray, and a MRI. All I kept thinking was that I had a high ankle sprain. A severe one, but still...a sprain. I mean...I drove home the night before for Christ's sake! How bad could it be???
 "You have a complete tear in your Achilles tendon" were the words the doctor was apparently saying to me. But, yup, i didn't believe him. He said it again but then added "You're most likely going to need to have surgery, Mr. Wilson. You do have a ruptured Achilles." And all of the sudden, I began to mentally question the intelligence of this asshole delivering me this shitty news.
 They gave me crutches and a "must-do" list. The next thing was getting in contact with my primary care physician. Who was at least 23-30 miles away from me. Close to my office, but far as hell from my home (dammit) And, plus i can't drive (dammit)
 When i got home, I hobbled my way to the couch and began to process the magnitude of what actually was happening. "Holy shit" is what I kept saying to myself. I called my office again and told them that this "thing"
 is a little more involved than i initially thought. They were incredibly supportive (and still are) and sympathetic. I then made an appointment for 2 days later.