I absolutely love autumn. I love the colors on the leaves. I love the gray clouds in the sky. I love the chill in the air when the wind gets going. I love bonfires with friends and family. And I love off-road golf carting...even still....
2 weeks ago, I embarked with a friend on one of these nighttime trailing adventures. We had detoured from a neighborhood get-together and found ourselves driving around an empty field of grass. It was one of those moments that I will never forget. Especially since I managed to roll out onto the ground during one circle around. I looked down at my right foot and it struck me that my sneaker was facing the wrong way. I am an optimist, so I decided that the problem was obviously with the shoe, and not with me. I took it off, had my friend drive me home, and crawled to Brad's side.
I told him I had hurt myself by falling, asked him to wrap it and took 4 Advil. When I woke up the next morning, I was in pain, so I suggested that we go to the Urgent Care. I insisted I didn't need to go to the ER, because, being an optimist, I was convinced that the pain I felt was a mere dislocation and that wonderful nurses at the offsite location would be able to fix me up like new.
That hope left me when the first nurse unwrapped the ankle and got a panicked look on her face. Brad and I both new we were in serious trouble from that moment forward. They took me to get an X-ray, where I was unable to lay and screamed so loud that Brad heard me down the hall. When I got back to my room, the Doctor on duty told me the Ortho-specialist on-call would meet me at the ER, and "would [I] like an ambulance?"
Fear set in. I had never been in an ambulance (I still haven't - Brad drove me). I had never been to the ER or been admitted to a hospital or had any form of surgery, not even dental. I put on my brave, optimistic face and met with this specialist.
I had not only dislocated the ankle, I had damaged all of my tendons and ligaments and managed to fracture the bones in 3 distinct places. Owww. Perhaps, I should have been more of a pessimist, because by waiting the night to come in, I caused more damage to the nerves, than if I had gotten there within 6 hours of the incident.
2 weeks ago, I embarked with a friend on one of these nighttime trailing adventures. We had detoured from a neighborhood get-together and found ourselves driving around an empty field of grass. It was one of those moments that I will never forget. Especially since I managed to roll out onto the ground during one circle around. I looked down at my right foot and it struck me that my sneaker was facing the wrong way. I am an optimist, so I decided that the problem was obviously with the shoe, and not with me. I took it off, had my friend drive me home, and crawled to Brad's side.
I told him I had hurt myself by falling, asked him to wrap it and took 4 Advil. When I woke up the next morning, I was in pain, so I suggested that we go to the Urgent Care. I insisted I didn't need to go to the ER, because, being an optimist, I was convinced that the pain I felt was a mere dislocation and that wonderful nurses at the offsite location would be able to fix me up like new.
That hope left me when the first nurse unwrapped the ankle and got a panicked look on her face. Brad and I both new we were in serious trouble from that moment forward. They took me to get an X-ray, where I was unable to lay and screamed so loud that Brad heard me down the hall. When I got back to my room, the Doctor on duty told me the Ortho-specialist on-call would meet me at the ER, and "would [I] like an ambulance?"
Fear set in. I had never been in an ambulance (I still haven't - Brad drove me). I had never been to the ER or been admitted to a hospital or had any form of surgery, not even dental. I put on my brave, optimistic face and met with this specialist.
I had not only dislocated the ankle, I had damaged all of my tendons and ligaments and managed to fracture the bones in 3 distinct places. Owww. Perhaps, I should have been more of a pessimist, because by waiting the night to come in, I caused more damage to the nerves, than if I had gotten there within 6 hours of the incident.
I was admitted to the hospital while I awaited emergency surgery. I had arrived at the ER at about 10am and was finally brought to the OR at around 8pm. When I woke up, I was the proud new owner of 7 pieces of fancy new surgical steel. I will actually be getting a couple more pieces in a follow-up surgery tomorrow.
I have not, however, lost my optimisim.
