So now that I have passed through the initial phase of healing, I have the energy to write about my experience shattering (that sounds so much more dramatic than "fracturing") my Patella. I learned that way cool name for "knee cap" on December 13, 2009.
Yes, I slipped on some black ice five weeks ago and all 215 pounds of me landed squarely on my Patella. I didn't experience the fall in slow motion or later on have flashbacks of slipping and falling while desperately reaching for support. Nope. I just slammed my left knee into the sidewalk and knew in a split second that this was serious. The first clue was the overwhelming and excruciating pain, the second clue was that my knee cap had worked its way up into the section of my leg normally reserved for my quadriceps and that it was also bulging just a bit out the side of my leg.
When I tried to move my leg, all hell broke loose. After a quick consultation with my family and a "Good Samaritan" who had pulled over to help, we came to an understanding that I would kill the next person who tried to touch, move or even glance at my leg. So I lay there on my sidewalk in front of my house with cars whizzing by and with rain coming down on me while my wife called an ambulance and grabbed an oversized umbrella, the Good Samaritan reassured me and my son procured some camping pads for me to lie on.
The guy in the ambulance did a good job of distracting me from my pain with stories of other accidents that were far worse than mine. "You should have seen it, her bones were poking right out the side of her leg", or, "this guy was so cut up he had to hold his own liver all the way to the hospital", etc. My knee cap was simply dislocated. The doctors would snap my Patella back in place in short order. What a relief! This would all be over in no time. The doctors would give me some good drugs and send me home to trim the tree in the company of friends and family. Not a bad way to spend a rainy, if not slippery, Sunday afternoon in December.
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I've read through episode four and wouldn't miss another for anything. My own experience with a broken tibia and fibula in 1995 is coming back. I remember my response to Demerol in a poorly staffed med/surge unit at Germantown Hospital. I was having hallucinations, as well as continued pain. I rang the call bell. No one responded, ever. I yelled at the top of my lungs. Nothing. I considered calling 911 - I know it's been done. Eventually, I rolled out of my hospital bed, halfway onto the floor, with a full leg cast, hours after surgery, crying in despair. A voice finally answered the callbell, from callbell central on another floor! Maybe they were right below and heard the thud.
ReplyDeleteThere are so many stories and they are only slightly embellished.
I'm thinking of you. Keep writing. Debbie
John,I am so sorry to hear about all this - what an agonizing experience. I must also say that I see a new career opening for you. Your blog is very entertaining and well written. I am glad you found a creative way to deal with all of this. I am thinking of you also. Berdine
ReplyDeleteJohn, I knew it was bad, but now I really know it was bad.
ReplyDeleteSo how do you manage to be funny at the same time?
This is great fun for those of us who are not in pain. I'll read you when I should be grading papers. And I'll even post--if I can figure out how to do it. I never figured out how to post on Bonnie's blog.
--Aerie
John:
ReplyDeleteThis reminds me (painfully and sadly) of my experience in rehab with my broken shoulder a few years ago. I was "exercising" in the physical therapy office with the tears running down my face when one of the therapists looked at me cooly and said, "Lots of people cry when they're here." Very comforting.
Unfortunately, I wasn't able to be as funny as you--I just complained a lot to my kids. BTW, speaking of kids, I believe I have a lot of your old records in my basement--you know, the ones you so graciously "gave" to my son. He loves them--me, not so much.
Can't wait to read the next installment. Linda S.