Hitting the Streets the Wrong Way Part 1

Our last day in Osaka was going to include a trip to the somewhat dismal zoo, some light wandering toward the airport, some souvenir shopping, and at last, our flight back northward.

We checked out of our hotel and took the train. Once above ground, my kid was slowing, chatting about all the pigeons while my husband raced ahead. We had plenty of time to walk the two blocks to the zoo, but I told her we had to run to catch up.

I should have kept chatting about the pigeons.

Instead, I fell down.

I didn't fall down a flight of stairs and I wasn't pushed but I took a couple of hurried strides and wound up on the pavement.

And then I couldn't get up.

And then I noticed the bulge that had already swollen up at the side of my calf, not on the knee but close by.

My husband and kid got me to my feet. I found I could still walk, so we walked back the way we had come, at which point my husband's janky GPS on his phone sent us back and forth across two different streets before I stopped him so I could go into the convenience store at the apex of this panicky crosswalk shuffle to get some ice for my leg. I also picked up zoikin, which are cotton cleaning cloths, and plastic garbage bags because I couldn't find anything smaller.

I made my make-shift ice pack while my husband hailed a cab.

This Osaka cab driver absolutely restored my faith in humanity. After several crappy exchanges with service folks in the big city, I was prepared for him to avoid putting a bleeding foreigner in his cab, but no. He let us put our luggage in the trunk and we wobbled into the back. While en route, he used hands free calling to make us an appointment at the hospital we were racing towards.

I didn't get his name, but wow do I hope he gets everything he wants out of life.