I never thought I would write a blog. Frankly I never though I would have the free time to sit and perform such stream of consciousness writing. And after all, why would anyone really want to read about me? Something happened to me last weekend however, and I now find myself involuntarily stopped, with nothing but time (and pain) on my hands. I decided perhaps this was the time for me to experiment with this blog thing, and at the same time chronicle a time of my life like none I have ever experienced before.
Last Saturday it was snowing very lightly all day - the flakes were so light and small they barely stuck. At 2pm or so I went to the grocery store and the library, and when I came home the driveway and walks were just wet. Although it started to snow harder after I came inside, I decided to take our youngest dog for a walk - he is in a training program for reactivity and missing one or two days can be a big set back. I got layered up, filled my pocket with hotdog pieces (dog treats!) and leashed up Walter. I stepped out the door, turned around to close the door, and turned back and started down the stairs. My foot hit the step and immediately slipped. Before I could even react I had slid down four concrete steps and landed at the bottom. The minute I landed I knew it was bad - I saw my leg bent at a right angle near the ankle. The pain was like nothing I have ever felt and I screamed. Then I remembered Walter and realized I had dropped the leash. He was terrified by my screaming and ran off. My voice at that point probably sounded hysterical, so it's not surprising he wouldn't come back when I called him. To top it off, when I left the house my husband was asleep on the couch with the TV on because he had not been feeling well. And he can sleep through three alarms! So... I'm laying at the bottom of the steps, in the worst pain I have ever felt, and not sure if I can get help.
So I kept screaming. And screaming. Our neighbors came out, and so did my husband - and he nearly did the same slide I did, but caught himself in time. The neighbors had called an ambulance, so I wanted my husband to go find Walter. The neighbor had gotten in his car, driven around and seen him tied to a sign post, but is scared of dogs so he had to come back and get my husband. When they got back, there was a young man who was about to take him. I can't even imagine recovering from that pain.
So, with the dog tucked safely away, a pillow and blanket for me (there was NO way I could move) and my ankle somewhat elevated we waited for the ambulance. And waited. And waited.... Did I mention I was laying on cement? Well, it turns out the dispatcher sent the call out as "routine" so they came as they were available and could have been re-routed for something more urgent at any time. While I was waiting I couldn't help but think about all the things in my life that were about to change. I knew my ankle was broken. I am not a fitness fanatic or long distance runner, but I am very active with my dogs and my household. I am not a person used to being slowed down by anyone. I was nearly hysterical with frustration and anger (at myself and the weather) by the time the ambulance arrived. The paramedics took my shoe off (ouch), and put a pillow splint on my ankle (OUCH) and then I had to stand on my good leg and sit on the stretcher. Yes, I had to stand. After laying in pain on cold cement for 30 minutes. I almost passed out. I have never ridden in an ambulance before, and I can't say I need to do it again. Apparently it's my fault that my veins don't stay out to receive IV catheters in the cold, and that the municipality I live in has so many bumps in the roads.
Luckily I work in the hospital I was taken to, so I got a stretcher, a pile of warm blankets, a shot of morphine and a quiet corner pretty quickly. Then a delicious cocktail of propaphol and fentanyl so they could reset my ankle (make it go straight instead of sideways). When I woke up they were splinting it and I went for an x-ray. When the doctor saw the x-ray he said "we'll find you a bed tonight and you can't eat or drink after midnight". I'm a nurse, I know what that means. Surgery. Shit.
I had never broken a lower extremity, never ridden in an ambulance, never had conscious sedation, never spent the night in a hospital... and I had done them all in one day. And there was even more to come...
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