Today was a gorgeous day. It had rained all day yesterday and part of the night, and now the sun was out and it was about 60 degrees. I decided to take advantage of the beautiful day and start my day by taking the dogs for a walk.
Everything was going fine, until about 40 minutes into the walk – half a mile or so from home. I slipped on a sidewalk covered with wet leaves. My leg buckled underneath me, but sideways. I heard it crack. I knew I had broken my leg.
Several miracles then occurred:
(1) I managed not to let go of the leashes, and the dogs stayed with me after I fell. They didn’t pull to keep moving; they sat down and waited.
(2) My friend Rob drove by. I waved him down to see if he could drive me home, but we couldn’t all fit in his car with his daughter in the back, so I decided I would try to make it home myself.
(3) I managed to walk about three-tenths of a mile, with the dogs, to get to another corner. (In retrospect, I have no idea how I did this.) I sat down, realizing that I could not walk any further and that I certainly could not make it down the steep hill to our street.
(4) A neighbor came out and asked if I needed help, and offered to drive me and the dogs home.
(5) But then Rob came back to get me, and he loaded the wet, muddy dogs in the car and me in the car and drove me home.
(6) I drove to the ER (it’s my left leg) and there was NO ONE in the waiting room. They took one look at my leg and whisked me right back to X-ray, where I waited exactly three minutes before they X-rayed me and took me back to my room in the ER.
If you are squeamish, look away. This is what my leg/ankle looked/looks like:
It looked like it had swallowed a tennis ball.
(7) My wonderful husband met me at the hospital.
(8) Nurses rock. The fabulous nurse we had got me an ice pack (the doctor and previous nurse had not even offered me one) and it felt like manna from heaven. While he put my leg in the splint, he told me stories to distract me and told me when it would hurt (“this is when we stop being friends,” he would say). He was an angel.
(9) The doctor said I broke my fibula. He said I was lucky because it didn’t seem to need pins or surgery, and it wasn’t my ankle.
(10) Once my friends heard about what happened, they (you) have all come to my rescue in one way or another – offering (and scheduling!! – SA) dinners, grocery shopping, kid shuttling, company, wine. I am so immensely grateful for this.
So, I am now in bed, with my leg up, taking lots of motrin, and in a lot of pain. I’m sad because I had just started getting back into running again, and had a great run yesterday. Being on crutches is hard with two kids, two dogs, and a two-story house.
But I feel so lucky, for all the miracles that happened today. For my dogs for not running off, for staying with me, for keeping me company once I was immobile at home. For my amazing and beautiful friends who are there for me in every way, shape and form. For my students who were understanding and kind. For M’s teacher, who told her that her homework was to do three nice things for me tonight and report back to her tomorrow. For my mother, who is getting on a plane tomorrow to come help. And for my family, especially my fabulous husband, who has gotten me everything I need and given me hugs when I need them, too.
Yes, I hurt. Yes, this sucks. But I am counting my blessings and staying positive.
Judith W says
you are very lucky. my daughter broke her tibia, and after five surgeries it was finally healed in about nine months time.
Karen Cooper says
Ugggh! I’m so sorry! Yes, the doctor also told me I was lucky. Thank you!