updates, updates, updates

I got a bit of disappointing news today. I thought I'd be going to the rehab hospital sometime this afternoon, but there won't be a bed open until Monday, so here I will be until then.

And further to my Nurse Ratched story, I think they must already know about her since as soon as I mentioned my nickname, the other nurses would nod slightly and smile and say you aren't the only one. As I was doing my daily hall walk, the physiotherapist was saying how pleased she was with the progress I've been making and said did I know who might be partially responsible. It was with grumpiness that I answered, yes, I knew and doesn't that fact just stick in my craw.

But

Back to the beginning. As we left off, the paramedics and firefighters were working as a team to get me out. One of the paramedics put a stablizing boot on my leg and right away set me up to have some very nice morphine run through me, even though I was ticked that he suggested it might only be sprain. I knew it was broken and was trying to think of a way to explain how I knew it was broken the other day when friends were visiting. You know how you hold a chicken leg or wing up and the bone is broken and it kind of dangles and just looks broken and has that funny sound? Well, that was my leg - so I knew it was. Now that you've all gone 'eewww - thanks for tha-at,' you might know why I was so indignant.

The morphine continued to drip all the way to the hospital and since I was feeling less and less pain, I started looking around the ambulance figuring this kind of opportunity didn't happen that often. The paramedic wanted me to keep looking in his eyes, but as there was no 'connection' between us, I was more curious than wanting to be soulful. Much of this is a blur, but I vaguely remember coming to a stop and getting out and someone asking if that was my son there. As I stared around at all the people looking at me, I couldn't see him and since they didn't say which son, I thought maybe they meant someone else. Nevertheless, I sat up and smiled and waved at the crowd anyway. I heard a few chuckles, waved harder and smiled brighter, but they made me lie down again.

I kind of sort of remembering them to tell me to stay still and they were going to give me more morphine - kewl I thought and tried asking why as I had an IV. Somehow they knew what I was asking since they said it would react faster by giving it directly. Kewl I thought.

Then Lisa and Ryan (that's the son they meant) and I were waiting in ER. Time had no meaning but I do remember a guy in a bed a couple of beds down brought in by the cops and using the word fuckin' as a verb, adverb, noun, pronoun, adjective, comma, semi:colon, question mark - just about every which way he could in an effort to get the cops to release him from his handcuffs and fight him. He was screaming it at them. I'm sure they heard him over a block away. They didn't let him go, but apparently his meds kicked in eventually as we didn't hear him anymore and I kept seeing men with very short hair and uniforms on walking around. When I asked Lisa in a stage whisper if they were the cops, she said yes - and shhhhhh.

Apparently I was quite entertaining as I was lying there on the stretcher and kept sitting up and trying to join in the conversations the doctors and nurses were having around the ER desk, I don't remember too much, but I do remember then looking at me, laughing and saying we aren't laughing AT you, we are laughing with you. Since I do remember thinking it odd that I would be laughing when I had a BROKEN leg, still I must have bought their explanation.

Eventually it was my turn for them to do........something. I didn't remember what or why - this next bit explains it:

This is Major Tom to Ground Control
I'm stepping through the door
And I'm floating
in a most peculiar way
And the stars look very different today

For here
Am I sitting in a tin can
Far above the world
Planet Earth is blue
And there's nothing I can do

I was really floating in a most peculiar way. I've never been a screamer - not when it comes to sex - though I always wondered what would be that good that would make me want to scream, not when I get angry - unless it's very, very, vary angry, but I distinctly remember what happened next. It was time to get X-rays - that's what time it was and they had to poke at my leg - my broken chicken leg leg and I let LOOSE. It hurt. I think Lisa looked at me and tried to get me stop screaming - but it HURT dammit and I was gonna scream if I wanted to - and by jove I wanted to!! But then the 'nice' Kristie, rather than the emotional Krisite took over - thinking it was probably uncomfortable for those waiting for treatment, not to hear this woman screaming at the top of her lungs. As well as Xraying my leg, they were also putting it into a splint - I think that's why I was screaming and again, it's vague - but they did have to do it twice I think as the first time the splint wasn't long enough. And I do remember them wanting me to sign something to agree to surgery and what would happen if I didn't sign it.

And I will have to ask Lisa and Ryan but I don't think it's my imagination that I asked if they were going to operate with me naked or whether I'd have something on - since I think at some point they cut off my underpants. I was assured that I would be covered. And I asked if they would be laughing at my ugly naked body and was told, no, they don't do that kind of thing. Oh, I think they do I must have said - I've seen it on TV.

And I also know that I asked to speak to the anesthesiologiststs - though it took me a long time to get that word out - for a meeting with him so that we could arrange a secret sign in case I had anesthesia awareness. But either I didn't meet the anesthesiologist or he wouldn't cooperate as we didn't get that signal worked out before going under the knife. All I do remember is a rather huffy denial that such a thing would happen.

Well - there's still more to come, but so far I've had rather a trying day so it's time to end now - in the good part!