So, a week ago today, I was coming home from the hospital with a fractured ankle that had been surgically repaired with 7 screws and a plate on my fibula and 2 screws in my tibia and one in my heel. To say the least, the past 10 days have been trying.
A little back story...
Friday the 20th of September, I was making my way home from another graveyard shift at the facility I work at as a graveyard instructor to teen-aged girls with behavioral problems. The night before my shift started, I went to the 7-11 up the street to buy some snacks to get me through the night. As I was walking to the street to throw away my snack trash in the big outside trash cans, I turned away from the trash cans and stepped in hole between the pavement of the street and the dirt lot where everyone else parks and fell. I heard a pop and immediately thought, "Oh, crap. Please don't be broken. Please don't be broken. Please don't be broken." I got up and continued my way down the street hoping that I'd at least be able to cross the street at the light. I accomplished that much when I couldn't walk anymore. There was a bulge coming out the inside of my ankle that didn't look like the previous sprains I've had. I didn't want to walk on it anymore. I couldn't. I didn't know who to call. I couldn't call anyone at work because they couldn't leave the facility. I didn't want to call my supervisor because I just don't get along with her. I called my brother to see if he was awake and could take me the emergency room that's 5 minutes away. He was asleep. Who could I call at 6:20 in the morning to take me to the hospital?? That was when I thanked my lucky stars for putting the non-emergency Provo police number in my phone when they gave it to us at work one night. The dispatcher took my information and sent an ambulance and a fire truck a whole 2 blocks to come pick me up. The emergency room is literally 5 blocks away. Thank God!
Anyhow, I spent the better part of my morning in the emergency room taking x-rays of my ankle. The attending ER doctor had to sedate me to pop my ankle back into place. The next day - Saturday the 21st - I had surgery to repair my ankle. I spent the rest of my weekend in the hospital contemplating why the hell this happened.
My diabetes is back with a vengeance. My ankle feels like it's in a vice with claws digging into my skin and I'm running low on percocet. I have, maybe, enough for 2 or 3 nights. And because of the pain medication, I haven't been able to go #2 on my own - until today. But I have a feeling that everything I've eaten in the past 10 days is finally going to make it's way out. Blessing in disguise? Ugh...it's more of a pain but it has to come out either way.
If you look in the right side-bar, you can see where they put the screws in my tibia and fibula. It's pretty gruesome and hard to imagine that all that metal is in my ankle right now. I'm hoping that the pain in my ankle will reside pretty soon. My tailbone isn't happy that I have to sleep on my back or that I'm pretty much sedentary the rest of the day. It hurts. Plus, the weight of the partial caste is taking it's toll on my hip and the rest of my leg. The muscles in my right leg are, pretty much, constantly achy.
Anyway, life is pretty much the pits right now. I'm trying to be positive, but not being able to do most everything on my own sucks. Not being able to make to the bathroom in less than 5 minutes is hard. Not being able to eat with the rest of my family or even sleep in my own bed is ridiculously depressing. Not to mention the fact that showering is a circus in and of itself.
I'm hoping it'll get better. It has to, right??
A little back story...
Friday the 20th of September, I was making my way home from another graveyard shift at the facility I work at as a graveyard instructor to teen-aged girls with behavioral problems. The night before my shift started, I went to the 7-11 up the street to buy some snacks to get me through the night. As I was walking to the street to throw away my snack trash in the big outside trash cans, I turned away from the trash cans and stepped in hole between the pavement of the street and the dirt lot where everyone else parks and fell. I heard a pop and immediately thought, "Oh, crap. Please don't be broken. Please don't be broken. Please don't be broken." I got up and continued my way down the street hoping that I'd at least be able to cross the street at the light. I accomplished that much when I couldn't walk anymore. There was a bulge coming out the inside of my ankle that didn't look like the previous sprains I've had. I didn't want to walk on it anymore. I couldn't. I didn't know who to call. I couldn't call anyone at work because they couldn't leave the facility. I didn't want to call my supervisor because I just don't get along with her. I called my brother to see if he was awake and could take me the emergency room that's 5 minutes away. He was asleep. Who could I call at 6:20 in the morning to take me to the hospital?? That was when I thanked my lucky stars for putting the non-emergency Provo police number in my phone when they gave it to us at work one night. The dispatcher took my information and sent an ambulance and a fire truck a whole 2 blocks to come pick me up. The emergency room is literally 5 blocks away. Thank God!
Anyhow, I spent the better part of my morning in the emergency room taking x-rays of my ankle. The attending ER doctor had to sedate me to pop my ankle back into place. The next day - Saturday the 21st - I had surgery to repair my ankle. I spent the rest of my weekend in the hospital contemplating why the hell this happened.
My diabetes is back with a vengeance. My ankle feels like it's in a vice with claws digging into my skin and I'm running low on percocet. I have, maybe, enough for 2 or 3 nights. And because of the pain medication, I haven't been able to go #2 on my own - until today. But I have a feeling that everything I've eaten in the past 10 days is finally going to make it's way out. Blessing in disguise? Ugh...it's more of a pain but it has to come out either way.
If you look in the right side-bar, you can see where they put the screws in my tibia and fibula. It's pretty gruesome and hard to imagine that all that metal is in my ankle right now. I'm hoping that the pain in my ankle will reside pretty soon. My tailbone isn't happy that I have to sleep on my back or that I'm pretty much sedentary the rest of the day. It hurts. Plus, the weight of the partial caste is taking it's toll on my hip and the rest of my leg. The muscles in my right leg are, pretty much, constantly achy.
Anyway, life is pretty much the pits right now. I'm trying to be positive, but not being able to do most everything on my own sucks. Not being able to make to the bathroom in less than 5 minutes is hard. Not being able to eat with the rest of my family or even sleep in my own bed is ridiculously depressing. Not to mention the fact that showering is a circus in and of itself.
I'm hoping it'll get better. It has to, right??
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