While we wait for an ambulance to take me to the hospital where I will have surgery, the emergency room staff removes the remainder of my clothing and tries to keep me calm. They are very professional as well as sympathetic, and I can tell they do this a lot. Before removing the ski boot from my broken leg they give me a fresh shot of pain killer so I don’t feel a thing. Still, the thought of them wrenching the stiff boot (it is only 1 season old) from my smashed, dangling leg, gives me the chills. Next I have the option of trying to save my silk thermals or having them cut off. Cut ‘em off I say! Luckily my ski pants are the kind that zips all the way down the sides so they can be removed without destroying them. I wonder, when I bought this style of pants was it a bad omen? As I lay pondering my situation, I develop a terrible pain in my lower back due to lying on the plywood immobilizing board for several hours while I wait for an ambulance. Even in the midst of my plight, I find it funny that the board is hurting worse than my broken leg. Finally the ambulance arrives and two kind gentlemen take me over to the hospital, just a few minutes away. As they wheel me into the hospital I find myself once again in unfamiliar territory. I have taken on the role of THE PATIENT: lying on a gurney, watching the top half of people as I am wheeled down long hallways, wondering if this is real or just a dream, waiting to find out how they will fix the pile of splinters that is my left leg.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Holy Cow
After a long trip down the mountain, lots of pain and disbelief, I find myself in the emergency room at Breckenridge. Here I will have my first glimpse of just how badly I broke my leg. Still strapped to the immobilizing board, I am transferred from the sled to an examining table. The first order of business is to begin removing my clothing, start an IV, hit me with a shot to relieve the pain, and take an x-ray. The pain killer helps a lot but only lasts a short time, after which I receive another and another. They take the x-ray with my ski boot still in place. When they place the x-ray film up on the viewer, which I can see, I know I am screwed. Holy cow! This is not some simple fracture. On the contrary, it looks as though I smashed the top of my tibia with a hammer while twisting it and grinding it into my ski boot. That is, the upper half of my lower leg is broken, twisted, shattered, and compressed. No wonder it hurts so badly!
While we wait for an ambulance to take me to the hospital where I will have surgery, the emergency room staff removes the remainder of my clothing and tries to keep me calm. They are very professional as well as sympathetic, and I can tell they do this a lot. Before removing the ski boot from my broken leg they give me a fresh shot of pain killer so I don’t feel a thing. Still, the thought of them wrenching the stiff boot (it is only 1 season old) from my smashed, dangling leg, gives me the chills. Next I have the option of trying to save my silk thermals or having them cut off. Cut ‘em off I say! Luckily my ski pants are the kind that zips all the way down the sides so they can be removed without destroying them. I wonder, when I bought this style of pants was it a bad omen? As I lay pondering my situation, I develop a terrible pain in my lower back due to lying on the plywood immobilizing board for several hours while I wait for an ambulance. Even in the midst of my plight, I find it funny that the board is hurting worse than my broken leg. Finally the ambulance arrives and two kind gentlemen take me over to the hospital, just a few minutes away. As they wheel me into the hospital I find myself once again in unfamiliar territory. I have taken on the role of THE PATIENT: lying on a gurney, watching the top half of people as I am wheeled down long hallways, wondering if this is real or just a dream, waiting to find out how they will fix the pile of splinters that is my left leg.
While we wait for an ambulance to take me to the hospital where I will have surgery, the emergency room staff removes the remainder of my clothing and tries to keep me calm. They are very professional as well as sympathetic, and I can tell they do this a lot. Before removing the ski boot from my broken leg they give me a fresh shot of pain killer so I don’t feel a thing. Still, the thought of them wrenching the stiff boot (it is only 1 season old) from my smashed, dangling leg, gives me the chills. Next I have the option of trying to save my silk thermals or having them cut off. Cut ‘em off I say! Luckily my ski pants are the kind that zips all the way down the sides so they can be removed without destroying them. I wonder, when I bought this style of pants was it a bad omen? As I lay pondering my situation, I develop a terrible pain in my lower back due to lying on the plywood immobilizing board for several hours while I wait for an ambulance. Even in the midst of my plight, I find it funny that the board is hurting worse than my broken leg. Finally the ambulance arrives and two kind gentlemen take me over to the hospital, just a few minutes away. As they wheel me into the hospital I find myself once again in unfamiliar territory. I have taken on the role of THE PATIENT: lying on a gurney, watching the top half of people as I am wheeled down long hallways, wondering if this is real or just a dream, waiting to find out how they will fix the pile of splinters that is my left leg.
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