Spraintown population me
Jan. 12th, 2017 07:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
omnia_mutantur(How would you punctuate the subject line?)
Yesterday, carrying Tank down the concrete steps in front of his house, I fell. I don't know why I fell, and I actually don't know how I fell, as in what part of my body hit the ground first, etc. I managed to keep Tank from hitting the ground with anything other than his ass, he was a little shocked and cried for a moment about that, but recovered almost instantaneously.
I, however, did not. I still managed to get him into the car, drive to the bookstore, sit on the floor for storytime and get him home and get lunch into him before his mother returned. Then I left her house, and drove straight to the ER. I could still walk, sort of, but it hurt in ways I was pretty sure my knee wasn't supposed to hurt, and I had already fallen from twisting the wrong way during the lunch-making process.
I managed to drive there, to hobble into the ER, and then I just started bawling. I'm sure that I'm ascribing intent where none was actually present, but everyone seemed to be being fairly unkind and dismissive. But eventually someone came in and manhandled my leg, and asked me where it hurt and how badly.
I'm not sure I've ever said 10. Realistically, the worst pain I can imagine is pretty bad, and the worst pain I've ever been in could have been way worse. But this was close. I couldn't answer where it hurt because I could have sworn the pain extended all the way around my knee and for at least an inch outside my skin.
So I told the doctor it was a 7 when I was lying still. All the while crying. He left, said I'd get some meds and xray and to yell if I needed anything. I tried yelling a couple minutes later, having finally stopped crying enough to realize I was a mess of snot and needed tissues, but I wasn't yelling loud enough. Eventually someone came in to take my insurance and my money and gave me tissues. Another ten minutes later someone came by to give me some oxycodone. Then, onto the xrays. The xrays involved a lot of repositioning that made me start crying again.
I get back to my bed, and there's someone in the next curtained enclosure over retching, pretty much nonstop. I've been known to gag at the cats' gagging noises, so quickly put my headphones in and listened to Very Loud Music. Some point after this, Light arrives and sits with me and we get the news that there's no non-soft-tissue damage, I should stay off it for the next couple days and if it still hurts next week, make an appointment with an orthopedist. They give me some crutches, and shoo me out.
I feel like an idiot, like there should have been some way that I knew that it was not ER-worthy pain. I feel like an idiot because this is not how I intended to spend yesterday, or today, or tomorrow. I feel like an idiot because I shouldn't have fallen (I still somehow assume that I fall because I'm fat, that there's some one-to-one correspondence.) For about three minutes a couple months ago, I took solace from the fact that my neurologist had informed me that I had something called an "type 1 arnold chiari malformation" and one of the side effects is potentially decreased sense of balance. But only for three minutes, because then I remembered that I do still pass all the basic balance tests administered.
So today I'll work from home with Abundance, trying to convince myself that it's totally okay to ask someone else to get things for me, because there's no way I'm going to be able to carry a cup of tea while still on crutches. And continually repeat to myself "it could have been worse".
Yesterday, carrying Tank down the concrete steps in front of his house, I fell. I don't know why I fell, and I actually don't know how I fell, as in what part of my body hit the ground first, etc. I managed to keep Tank from hitting the ground with anything other than his ass, he was a little shocked and cried for a moment about that, but recovered almost instantaneously.
I, however, did not. I still managed to get him into the car, drive to the bookstore, sit on the floor for storytime and get him home and get lunch into him before his mother returned. Then I left her house, and drove straight to the ER. I could still walk, sort of, but it hurt in ways I was pretty sure my knee wasn't supposed to hurt, and I had already fallen from twisting the wrong way during the lunch-making process.
I managed to drive there, to hobble into the ER, and then I just started bawling. I'm sure that I'm ascribing intent where none was actually present, but everyone seemed to be being fairly unkind and dismissive. But eventually someone came in and manhandled my leg, and asked me where it hurt and how badly.
I'm not sure I've ever said 10. Realistically, the worst pain I can imagine is pretty bad, and the worst pain I've ever been in could have been way worse. But this was close. I couldn't answer where it hurt because I could have sworn the pain extended all the way around my knee and for at least an inch outside my skin.
So I told the doctor it was a 7 when I was lying still. All the while crying. He left, said I'd get some meds and xray and to yell if I needed anything. I tried yelling a couple minutes later, having finally stopped crying enough to realize I was a mess of snot and needed tissues, but I wasn't yelling loud enough. Eventually someone came in to take my insurance and my money and gave me tissues. Another ten minutes later someone came by to give me some oxycodone. Then, onto the xrays. The xrays involved a lot of repositioning that made me start crying again.
I get back to my bed, and there's someone in the next curtained enclosure over retching, pretty much nonstop. I've been known to gag at the cats' gagging noises, so quickly put my headphones in and listened to Very Loud Music. Some point after this, Light arrives and sits with me and we get the news that there's no non-soft-tissue damage, I should stay off it for the next couple days and if it still hurts next week, make an appointment with an orthopedist. They give me some crutches, and shoo me out.
I feel like an idiot, like there should have been some way that I knew that it was not ER-worthy pain. I feel like an idiot because this is not how I intended to spend yesterday, or today, or tomorrow. I feel like an idiot because I shouldn't have fallen (I still somehow assume that I fall because I'm fat, that there's some one-to-one correspondence.) For about three minutes a couple months ago, I took solace from the fact that my neurologist had informed me that I had something called an "type 1 arnold chiari malformation" and one of the side effects is potentially decreased sense of balance. But only for three minutes, because then I remembered that I do still pass all the basic balance tests administered.
So today I'll work from home with Abundance, trying to convince myself that it's totally okay to ask someone else to get things for me, because there's no way I'm going to be able to carry a cup of tea while still on crutches. And continually repeat to myself "it could have been worse".
no subject
Date: 2017-01-12 01:36 pm (UTC)So sorry to hear about your fall. Glad it's "only" a sprain, and many best wishes for a speedy recovery.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-12 02:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-12 02:04 pm (UTC)For what it's worth, when I cry, I snot like crazy. And I cry pretty easily.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-12 02:32 pm (UTC)My First Aid training from the Red Cross said that it was not possible to distinguish between a break and a sprain without an x-ray, unless it was such a bad break that bones were visibly in the wrong place. So you did the right thing in going to ER.
no subject
Date: 2017-01-15 01:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-01-14 03:58 pm (UTC)