On August 31st of this year, around noon, I was at the company annual offsite meeting being the loyal company employee. Walking to lunch, I managed to trip over a four inch riser in the atrium of the venue and went down like a sack of bricks. I heard and felt some fascinating things in that microsecond as I saw a slate floor come up to meet my face.
The first thing I felt was a feeling in the pit of my stomach: That “Uh-Oh. This Is Going To Hurt” moment. I’ve felt that before, notably in a couple of car accidents and a particular one in a racing kart that saw me thinking “The horizon should not be up there and it is not good to be looking down from this high up going this fast in +Z and +X axis, when it normally works only in +Y and -Y axis.”
That is the joy of “Uh Oh” moments: Time slows down so you can appreciate what is about to happen.
The second thing I felt, after the Uh Oh, was, “Which particular body part do you want to break, David?” This internalized dialogue is one you have when you know that if you put out your hands, you will break both wrists, or at least an arm.
You also realize that you had best accelerate your decision-making processes, as the gap between the floor and you is rapidly closing. “Hmmm. A broken arm hurts. A broken face hurts. I’ve already done my knees in, so, let’s see if we can dislocate a shoulder and roll across my shoulder, hip and butt like a semi-uncoordinated parachute roll performed by an idiot.”
I turned a bit in the air, but had spent too long debating which particular pain I was willing to go through. I couldn’t quite turn fast enough to take the fall on my shoulder, hips and butt. My left ankle resolutely determined to not play along. “Hey, screw that nonsense, I’m stayin’ put!”
The ground came up to meet me at that moment. I managed to wallop my legs, hip, ribs, shoulder and head on the floor. Birdies, planets and stars were rotating around me. I gave my head a shake to clear the Warner Brothers animation enough to start the initial assessment. I am lying on my right side.
Balls? Fine. Dick? Still there. Whew! The Important Stuff is intact.
Face? I’m still wearing glasses, so it must be fine. Skull? Ouch. Shoulder? Not so good, but I’m not feeling bone ends or hearing unique sounds. Elbow? Ouch. Ribs? I can breathe, so nothing broken. Hip? Ouch. Knee? Ouch.
Doing OK so far David, just Ouches, which means bruising; nothing permanent or debilitating. Right Ankle? Fine.
Left Ankle? FuckmeDeloresGodaddmitsonofaBitchCocksuker! Since my body parts tend not to use that kind of language unless they are injured, I figured I hurt something.
At that moment I was aware that there were a number of people standing over me, probably watching the animated stars, birdies and planets orbiting my head. One colleague said “Are you OK?” The snappy cynic in me wanted to say “Oh yes, I just wanted to lie down rapidly on a slate floor, face first.” I didn’t, but I did ask for a moment to do a quick second assessment. Yep. Left ankle Not Happy. The next step is simple enough: Am I feeling bone ends where I shouldn’t feel bone ends? Hmmm.
I rolled on my butt, sitting on the floor, as more people crowded around, offering all kinds of advice. I’m a first aid guy and have been for years, so I said “Give me just a moment please, I do first aid, but not normally on myself. Just a sec.” The animation around my head faded and I took a breath to check the ribs. Fine.
“Could you help me up please?” Two people took me under the arms and lifted me up. I guarded the left leg, as that was the one that was cussing me out. I stood momentarily on it. Whew. Broken bones don’t take any weight, at all. Even the slightest weight on a break will make the patient use language that would make a drill sergeant sit up and be impressed.
However, the ankle was not impressed with me putting weight on it and let me know with a lower-case “Fuck” running up my leg to my brain. I did manage to edit it to “shit” before it leaped out. Someone slid a chair under my legs. I sat down. A drone from the facility came up, eyes all aglow with adrenaline.
“HelloImsoandsofromthevenueandIdofirstairwhathappendtoyouareyouallrightdidyouhityourhead” I replied, rather calmly that my name was David, I am a First Responder too, No, I did not hit my head. No, there was no loss of consciousness. I have injured my ankle but it takes weight, so it isn’t broken. But I am a bit diaphoretic and need a moment to collect myself. She stopped immediately and looked at me like I had grown a second head. I suppose she wasn’t used to getting an instant diagnosis from a patient.
I tried standing again, as a couple of people helped me to my feet. The ankle was taking weight well enough. I had hurt it, but nothing was broken. I had dodged the bullet.
Since there was no blood, puking or seizures, the crowd melted away, nothing to see, move along, move along. In the first aid situations I’ve been in as responder, the thing I always try to do is to get the patient some privacy. Nothing makes you feel more vulnerable that a bunch of people staring at you, while you’re in pain.
After another moment, I tried standing again. Left ankle seemed to take weight and the whack upside the head merely hurt a little. “I’m ok folks, nothing to see.” After exchanging data with the facility drone, I limped outside to have a smoke and sit down for a bit. Lunch occurred, the rest of the presentations occurred and by 4 pm, I was in exquisite agony, limping like an amputee.
When the afternoon presentations were over, a co worker with me determined that I could not walk. Pat went to get a facility person. It was determined, by me, to not bother with such niceties as an ambulance, but I did want to get to my car and get the hell out of there. Pat got my car to the front door and the facility got a wheelchair to get me to my car. Pulling on the roof and doorhandles I got into the car and drove home.
Hobbling out of the underground parking it took about twenty minutes to get to the apartment. My thought was that some RICE (Rest Ice Compression Elevation) and I’d be fine in a day or two. I gobbled some Tylenol and got undressed. I had a lump on my head and a lovely collection of bruises on my elbow, shoulder and hip. I had even managed to rip a couple of square inches of skin off the top of my knee. The ankle: Swelling up like an erection on a Mormon Wedding Night.
The Tylenol kicked in and I slept for several hours. The next morning? No weight on that ankle thanks. However, I do have a rolling chair as part of my ‘home office’. Guess where I spent the day? Rolling around like a seven year old. Roll to the kitchen, roll to the living room, roll to the bathroom and even roll to the bedroom. Wheeee! More Tylenol. More Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation.
Friday, when the ankle wouldn’t take any weight at all. I figured I was in a world of Shiite and it was actually broken. I don’t have crutches. I don’t have a cane. I have an ankle that won’t take weight. I can’t get to my car to get to a doctor. I’m not going to call an ambulance for a sprained ankle. I called a drug store and ordered some crutches, then had the drug store put the crutches in a cab for delivery. Fortunately I had some cash on hand.
The short form, after seeing a doctor at a walk in clinic, who referred me to the local hospital and waiting for a couple of hours, I got an Xray that confirmed that, yep, no breaks. Sprained like a rat mother, but no breaks. Yippee! No plaster for me.
In the next post, I’ll cover off some observations on mobility.
RoadDave 