life updates

[shamera]

So I broke my ankle last week. Badly. Went to the fireworks, stepped over a curb and into a dip, and tripped forward-- only to land my entire body weight on my left ankle at a terrible, terrible angle. I went down really hard and just-- saw the ankle like a horror movie, bent entirely outward at the wrong angle with a lump where my inner ankle bone was. Gosh, it was pretty terrible pain-wise, until I heard and felt something click back together, and the pain went down significantly (although I was still floored- face pressed against the grass trying to breathe and not black out).

So I thought-- wow, is that broken? If I was lucky, it was dislocated, and the snap managed to put things back together. At least the pain was going down to more manageable levels (still hurt like hell, but I wasn't going to pass out anytime soon) and hubby and I waited for first responders. They came, secured an area around us from the thousands of other fireworks-goers, and we waited for an ambulance.

Me being my dumb ass, I kept insisting that all I needed was a wheelchair. I needed to get past the streets cars weren't allowed, and then call a taxi home, and sleep it off. I mean, everything looked fine after the snap back, but I just couldn't-- move. They got me like ten steps over to the benches to sit and just feeling my foot dangling was-- wrong. It felt wrong. And also super painful.

So we waited an hour an forty minutes, sitting there, for the ambulance, with differing shifts of people constantly asking me about my pain levels, which I tended to answer with 3-5 out of 10.

Finally got in the ambulance (and gosh that was a spike of pain as well) and they insisted on taking me to St. Paul's to get X-rays done just in case. It wasn't until well over 2 hours after the injury that someone came to give me some painkillers (2 weak Advil and 2 weak Tylenol, they admitted it after I expressed surprised at the amount of pills I was being given). So the X-ray technician just went... "Oh, I see the problem already" on the first x-ray and that's how I knew, lol.

So my ankle ended up being... really broken. They also took me in for CT scans for more detail, and told us to wait in the hospital until morning when the bone doctor could come take a look at it, because it might need surgery. After a long and agonizingly boring night in the hospital, the doctor came in and said... yeah, that definitely needs surgery, with multiple breaks and a dislocations, and they were tempted to make me stay at the hospital until they could clear up a time for surgery, but at that point I just really wanted to go home. I didn't want to stay in the hospital for another 2 days for their earliest surgery time, so they splinted it and told me to keep it elevated as much as possible, and they'd call.

Nearly a full week later I got the surgery on Friday morning, and the doctors there were so surprised by how my injury was caused by a fall, because apparently it looked more like something caused by a high-impact car accident. The surgeon came in to say it's really bad once more, possibly the most difficult surgery he's ever had to do and that they would have to make three separate incisions to drill in metal plates to keep the bones together. I was mostly just O_O because what else could I do?

...Although I have to mention, they took multiple attempts to get the IV into me and that was rather painful as well, even if it was a superficial pain. The first one went under my skin and then they jabbed around trying to find a vein and I was just OW OW OW UM??? The second went in much quicker and they were like don't worry! It's done now! But then when they wheeled me into OR, apparently the drip wasn't going through so they needed to find another vein so they got me on the inside of the elbow finally and I just remember commenting on the bruise that was already forming at the first area they tried, and a doctor laughed and told me it was fine, I had such delicate looking bruises anyway.

Then they put me under completely and I woke up after the surgery super disoriented. Got wheeled back, got dressed, and they gave a whole set of instructions I thought I followed really well, but I think hubby got most of it instead of me. I was super nauseated after attempting a bathroom trip, so the nurse gave me a ginger ale but whoa that only made the nausea so much worse on the car ride back.

(Three times I've attempted ginger ale after the surgery, and three times I've been downed by nausea afterward, so I'm not trying again.)

Honestly, I was just so relieved after the surgery, I felt good for the first time in a week because I wasn't afraid of making the breaks worse if I twitched the wrong way anymore... and then at 7:07am the next day, I came to regret the surgery entirely.

So, uh, they said to take this pain medication every 4 hours, set the alarm, don't you dare skip a dose-- so I did! Had the alarm set for 8:30am for the next dose of hydromorphine, except by 7:10am the pain was horrifying. Excruciating. I took an earlier dose by 7:15am because I just couldn't stand it despite not being on painkillers for the most part of the week. Apparently that's when the block that the hospital put in for the surgery finally wore off, and all my nerves started firing at once.

Long story short, Saturday really... really... really sucked. I overdosed on every painkiller I had and was still yelling and crying from the pain, enough that hubby really wanted to call 911 except I wouldn't let him because I already knew that I just had to grit through the pain.

So I finally started feeling... a little bit better around 8pm (that's right, over 12 hours later) and after 3 hydromorphines at a time (do NOT do that) when my aunt finally calls me for the first time this week, since she just heard the news.

...My bad. I told my mom, grandma, and uncle Nick immediately when I got to the hospital thanks to a group chat, but couldn't exactly reach most of my family, and I didn't want them to get into contact with my aunt. My mom panicked a lot and would ask for me aunt to look after me, and I would very specifically tell her that I DID NOT WANT THAT. Uncle Louis called a few days ago and said that if I needed anything, then either talk to my aunt or to Jasper. I've been exchanging texts with Jasper, even, as a back-up driver in case I needed someone to take me to the hospital for surgery.

But Saturday, my aunt heard the news and calls me... at the worst time. Maybe the best time for that day? I was feeling just human enough to answer the phone, even if I was gasping out every breath and could barely speak. She asked me what happened and offered to make food for me because I should eat, and I thought-- wow, that's super nice. But I wasn't going to eat because... err, I dunno if anyone realized just how difficult going to the bathroom is when I can't move my ankle without excruciating pain.

So I say something about not having much of an appetite, but thanks for the offer, and she insists. And then she goes on about the story when she broke her wrist a while back, and how they made her pay for the cast, and how that was bullshit. And how she had to wait a week before the surgery (at this point, the only words I managed to get through is that I also waited a week), and how expensive the medicine was, and she threw it all out anyway because she took one and thought it was a hoard of bullshit because it wasn't good for us and that I shouldn't take the medicine either--

Okay. So. At this point. I've been gasping in pain the whole time. Could barely get a word in. I'm shaking; giant convulsions of pain. I've overdosed dangerously on medication trying to get away from the pain, and she's talking about how I need to get rid of my pills because she didn't hurt after her surgery. Like. I also skipped painkillers after I broke my ankle. It just didn't hurt enough to take them for me. But on Saturday, it felt like my world was on fire and she kept insisting and eventually I'm just gulping out sobs trying to get a single word in because she just kept going--

I guess eventually she caught on that I was too busy hysterically crying to answer her? And she just sounded really upset when she told me to call her back when I was feeling better.

Like. I couldn't stop sobbing after the phone call. I just couldn't believe how awful it was trying to interact with her. Couldn't understand if that was the standard interaction from family members toward me while I was so very obviously in an unbearable amount of pain.

I barely managed to control my crying a little half an hour later when my mom called, and she... tried to talk me through breathing exercises, tried to calm me down, and said things would be okay and that the pain would pass. That was just how I expected normal people to interact with someone in obvious pain? I was crying to my mom about what my aunt said, and she soothed me about how different people's experiences with pain would obviously be different, and thinking about it-- yeah. A broken hand must have really sucked, but it would have been so much easier to keep above heart level to reduce swelling. Would have been easier to ice. Wouldn't have given anyone problems just trying to go to the bathroom. If my ankle hadn't been as swollen as it was Saturday, maybe I wouldn't have been in so much pain because it felt like my cast was trying to stab into my incisions at every turn.

I haven't called her back. Luckily, however, the worst of the pain did pass and today I'm feeling a hundred times better, even if I'm not feeling good. I'm just-- really upset at my aunt.

Again.

And I don't want to be. I need to focus on getting better, not on her scolding me because I'm in pain.