At one point, if I wasn't smarter, I would have thought the Ortho team lead was flirting with me. He was rubbing my leg, making conversation about my work, and then BAM! My knee cap was back in place and my knee didn't hurt. What the? Oh those pesky knee caps...I hadn't broken my knee or femur, my knee cap had just been dislocated for the last few hours. My "hip" on the otherhand was another story. Oh and he wasn't flirting with me...
I think I counted 17 different X-rays of my pelvis, including one where my "good" leg was being held in the air and included the zipper of the pants that I was still wearing. My hips had been tied by a sheet at the scene of the accident and still hours later, they were still tied. Felt super archaic to me but I'm no doctor.
So the X-rays, etc revealed many breaks (not fractures) in my sacrum on the right and my pelvis (what most think of as your pubic bone). This is an excellent lesson in anatomy... Your knee bone is connected to your leg bone and your leg bone is connected to your hip bones. And your pelvis feels like it is connected to everything!!!!
So, surgery it is. Now, we wouldn't want to go and be all logical here and schedule something, so I am "officially" admitted to the hospital and will be transferred from the triage space I am in, to a bed soon. That was at 7 pm. For the most part, I had no concept of time between arrival and now, but getting to move to a room sounded like heaven. I wasn't going to be right by a door where every person walking past could look in. I wouldn't be under these super bright lights and I wouldn't be in the same room as all the crazy drunks coming in.
At one pointing triage, there were two drunk ladies who were apparently injured and were so angry that they couldn't drink while in triage, they were yelling obscenities at the nurses. Color me silly, but if I wanted a nurse, called her a dirty, stinky, c^*t didn't seem like the right route. You should have heard the one when the nurse found a pint of vodka in the ladies purse and took it. It was seriously like Grey's Anatomy, or Real Life stories of the ER, except I wasn't just getting to watch.
At some point after 7 pm, when I started paying more attention to time, I was told they needed to put my leg in traction. Do you know what that is? It's gross and archaic, like my sheet. I remember my mom wanting to stay with me. By this time, my brother Toby and his girlfriend Carrie had arrived. As the flirty Ortho doctor started to explain the procedure, I saw Carrie go white and disappear, with my brother shortly behind. I didn't hear a lot because its not like I had a choice in this, so do what you will. My mom on the other hand wanted to stay. The doctor suggested he talk to me alone and asked me if I wanted her to stay, and that he didn't recommend it, because what he was about to do, would be hard to watch. A nurse suggested it was a good time for dinner and that I would be done in about 30 minutes. So the three of them went to the cafeteria, and I was about to get my traction on.
Traction was happening to relieve the weight and pressure of my leg on my pelvis. Insert a rod, add 10 lbs of weight, and wa-la! Funny. Here is what I remember, I got numbed with a GIANT needle all the way to bone and they wiggled it around in there, which was just nauseating. The poor nurse who has to chat with me . . . I feel so bad trying to be chipper while knowing what was happening. I know there was a long metal rod, a screwdriver and a hammer. That's all, the rest I blocked out. I could hear, I could feel the crank in the ratchet. Bleh, just gross. The end result, a better feeling pelvis and hip, and I was attached to the bed. I still had my neck race on during the procedure, so even if I had wanted to watch, or look, I couldn't.
I was done for awhile before my family came back. I just laid there flat with my chin tucked into my neck brace taking it all in. My mom had left my cell phone with me and I picked it up. I knew there re several people who had expected to see me that night, at the gym, etc and needed to let them know what happened and that I was okay. I sent a few texts and honestly, I think that is when I sort of made a choice about my perspective on this. I was okay. Broken, yes, but I was alive. As I replayed the days events through my head, I realized I probably shouldn't be.
My thoughts were interrupted by a doctor who wanted to take my neck brace off. I had been asking for hours to have it off. Lesson for me, if I ever have to wear a collar, I'm screwed. He pushed and pulled on my neck, gave me a high five and was off.
The pictures below are all after that. Still waiting for a room and starting to explore the room with my curious mom and brother, and an ashen Carrie.
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