On August 8, I was admitted to the hospital with a badly fractured femur and other assorted injuries. All the result of a very nasty motorcycle accident. On August 9, I underwent surgery to repair my femur. My stay in the hospital lasted until August 12, at which point I was begging to be released.
I had thought I would blog about my experiences in the hospital, and made note of such on my previous blog. However, I have found that discussing said experiences is harder than I realized. Perhaps in an anonymous format where no one knows me, or as I oft day dream of, in a courtroom. Yes, it was that bad.
In the twelve days since my accident, I have been out of bed a handful of times. I can put no weight on my right leg at all, which makes moving about somewhat difficult. In that short amount of time, my thigh muscles appear to have gone to sleep and I have to struggle to do small exercises to keep them from atrophying.
I have applied for short term disability, as I will not be able to put weight on my leg for another seven weeks. And because it is my right leg, that means no driving. I am a virtual prisoner in my home.
I am dependant upon everyone around me for the simplest things. From refilling my water to helping me get out of bed to maintaining some form of cleanliness. It stings my pride to ask for help, but I have no other recourse.
I have twice daily injections of a blood thinner, so I have to be careful that I don’t cut myself. My legs haven’t been shaved since before the accident and my physical therapist advises that they stay that way until I’m off the blood thinner. Needless to say, I itch.
My right thigh is quite swollen still, although it is smaller than it was. At one point it was more than twice the size of my left and I was wearing extra large draw string pants because nothing else would fit. My knee was a large shapeless blob and my ankle resembled an elephant’s foot. Good times, indeed.
Since coming home, I have discovered that I have more friends that I realized. And I’ve also found out which ones were never really my friends to begin with. It’s been a painful, and pleasant, experience all in one.
I’m fortunate to be alive. I’m also fortunate that circumstances recently put me in the middle of another household and I do not have to go through this alone. I feel very grateful for what I have, but in all honesty, I’d rather not have found out how fortunate I am in quite this fashion.
It will be some time before I am out and about, but I will be out there eventually. At first I was positive it wouldn’t take as long as the doctors said, now I’m just hoping it doesn’t take longer.
I am going to try to post more, but I’m not making any promises. Right now I sleep a lot. And when I’m not sleeping, I’m trying to work through all of the emotional fall out from all of this. It is, hands down, the most difficult experience of my life. And while I’ve been through some things, as this blog will attest to, nothing ever prepared me for this.
It’s a damn good thing I’m tough, huh?