And there I was, lying helplessly on the living room floor after hearing the worst sound in the world: a loud ‘SNAP‘. Not once but twice in a split second. I had slipped over the stupid Bakugan battle arena mat. How daft does it get?
J-man was a trooper. I was in so much pain but realized I needed to stabilize my ankle before anything else. He brought me pillows and helped me place them around my ankle. He searched for the phone, the one item that always seems to go missing in our household, and he walked into the back yard to try to see if our neighbor was at home. All the while he mumbled “I’m so sorry you’re in so much pain, mom“. Poor thing.
After a quick call to our GP the ambulance arrived. Those minutes seemed to last hours. I was in so much pain and couldn’t get up or even move my leg into a more comfortable position.
I was brought to the ER where I fell into a delightful pit of nothingness after a much-needed morphine shot. I must have sounded like a crack-addict every time I mumbled “Can I get a bit more of the good stuff?” a gazillion times that day. What a rush. I only had morphine twice though, once that day and one time after I woke up after my surgery, so no worries.
The x-rays were taken and they quickly noticed that I had broken my ankle in three places and it was a rather complicated fracture to boot. Well, yeah, I don’t do anything half ass! I was hospitalized and my ankle was put into a half cast. Now I’m no wuss, I gave birth without drugs and would have no problems doing it again, but this HURT… like a bitch. Come to think of it, I’d rather give birth than ever have to go through this again. Giving birth is peanuts compared to breaking your ankle!
I had surgery the next evening. The surgery kept being postponed and at the end of the day I felt weak and nauseous because I hadn’t eaten anything since the day I broke my ankle and hadn’t been allowed as much as a sip of water since early that morning because of the impending surgery. I got out of surgery at 11PM, had a shot of morphine and was brought to a room where I bunked with two elderly ladies. All I wanted was to sleep.
One of the ladies in the bed next to me was humming all day and the other one threw up constantly and looked as if she was about to keel over any moment, until her visitors arrived. Then she got up and talked and laughed like she didn’t have a care in the world. Not at night, though. At 2am, only 3 hours after I got out of surgery, she started creating this major fuss and it was like the circus had arrived. Bright lights, lots of sounds, nurses walking in and out and loud talking at 30cm from my head for about an hour and a half. And all I wanted was some sleep.
It was like this the following night and the nights after that until I had to use a sleeping pill just to be able to fall asleep and then another one to go back to sleep halfway through the night. The nurses were probably so busy with that one lady they even forgot to give me a thrombosis injection after my surgery and handed me a small pillow to prop my foot on, while later on I learned I had to elevate my foot well above the level of my heart. Right.
When I had to get up and grab a walker to hop over to the nurses station after they left one of the old ladies sitting on the toilet for over 10 minutes and she was about to get up on her own, I was fed up with it. That’s when I basically discharged myself on Saturday. They wanted to keep me there until Monday but I figured I’d get more sleep and rest at home, could prop my foot on a few pillows there as well and pop a painkiller or two when needed and just be with my family. Coming home was like heaven.
They repaired my ankle with a titanium plate and 4 screws on one side and a large screw and pin through my entire bone on the other side. The small fracture on the back of my ankle will heal itself in due time. My ankle is terribly swollen. It looks like it doesn’t even belong to me anymore, like it’s no longer a part of my body. Alien ankle. I try not to freak out when I look at it. It’s entirely black and blue starting at the base of my toes all the way up to my knee.
Had the fracture not been this complicated they probably would have postponed the surgery, wait for the swelling to come down, but now they had to operate. I know in advance that I’ll end with really bad-looking scars because there is so much pressure on the wounds. Must admit that I don’t care; I’ll take a functioning over a pretty ankle anytime. The recovery will take long, or so I’ve been told. 6 months up to a year. Again, I don’t care as long as I know that I’ll eventually have full use of my ankle again.
The main concern now is to make sure the swelling goes down, so there will be less pressure on the incisions they made on both sides of my ankle. Wound dehiscence could be catastrophic with all the titanium they put in there.
So all I do now is lie in bed, with my ankle-propped up (the right way this time!), occasionally I put an ice pack on my bandage, watch Food Network and yell at Paula Deen to cut the garlic clove in half before rubbing it all over the toast, and I read.
Know any good books? Got all the time in the world to read them now. I had no idea I could be this zen!