"Nebraska football AND Eli Young Band today. This very well might be the best day ever."
That was my Facebook status on the morning of October 24, 2009. I was a little presumptuous to believe that it might be the "best" day. In reality, my breezy Saturday took a few violent turns for the worst. Let me count the ways. I ran out of gas on the drive over to my friend's game day party. Nebraska ended up losing, at home, to Iowa State 9-7. I ended up running over myself with my own car. I missed the Eli Young Band concert because of said accident.
"C, I don't think I can come hot tub. I think I'm hurt."
It's 2pm and I decide to leave my doctor friend's football party at half due to our lackluster showing on the field. I had better things to do that watch my team get run over by arguably the worst team in college football. Hot tub on a chilly October day? Sign me up. I fire up my Chrysler Sebring (company car - don't judge) and promptly back into a pole. Great. Thanks a lot Murphy's Law. I shove the gear shift into park and jump out to check out the damage. Doesn't look TOO bad, just a big dent, ummm the car is moving, OMG. Crushed.
- the day after.
I'm screaming. I've never heard noises like that come out of my mouth. The car had slipped out of gear - from park to reverse - and has me pinned between the car and the metal pole. My voice goes out and there is no one in this parking garage to help me. The car is in reverse and it keeps grinding into my hips. I can either stay here and a)hope that someone will eventually come to my rescue (knight in shining armor, please?) b)get sawed in half by this terribly made boat of a car or c) get myself the eff out of there. C it is. Through my tears, I pull myself from between the moving car and the steel pole. I can't walk. I'm jelly from the waist down - my legs don't work and nothing is connected in my hip area. I use my upper body strength to pull myself around my car to get to my cell phone on the driver's seat. Thanks adrenaline!
"The pelvis is the strongest bone in your body. It doesn't break. We'll get you on my couch with a beer and an Advil - you'll be fine."
I feel reassured. He IS an anesthesiologist, after all. The two guys who had just sprinted out to my rescue try to help me walk. Ain't happenin'. The screaming starts again. Thanks to my PPO, I'm at Baylor hospital 15 minutes later being seen by a orthopedic surgeon to the Cowboys. "Um, hi. X-ray tech? Can we get a move on? I've got Eli Young tickets for tonight and I've got to get going..." She tells me she's not at liberty to discuss my x-rays with me, but that I should plan on staying here tonight. Ok. One night. That's do-able. At least I'll be able to go to Waco to see my beloved Huskers play Baylor this weekend. She shakes her head and tells me I should "get comfortable." I don't like this and start to cry. Again.
- 8 breaks. A new personal best.
I'm resting comfortably thanks to my nearly lethal drug cocktail of vicodin and oxycontin. They tell me I'll be here for awhile. I had broken my pelvis in 8 different places and torn both of my groin muscles. The worst part about having a serious injury in the hip area - EVERYONE sees your business. Goodbye, modesty. It was nice to have you for so long. I could tell you stories that still make me blush. For example, when I was finally given permission to shower on my own (in my shower chair, of course), it was a social event. 5 or 6 nurses would pile into my bathroom and chit chat with me about their day, while I was stark naked washing my hair. I was the youngest patient on the floor by about 40 years, so they were constantly finding reasons to come visit me.
I was in the orthopedic trauma ward for a couple of weeks, endured more public humiliation than a person can possibly take, then transferred over to the rehabilitation hospital for the next few weeks. I remember begging my parents to lock my door so my physical therapist couldn't come in. Think excruciating pain - times infinity. I just looked back on my mini-blog I kept on my Facebook during that time. I sat up today! I stood myself up with the help of a walker! The doctor at aquatic therapy made me wear scrubs over my bikini- rude!
The moral of this story, kids, is DON'T BUY CHRYSLER.
SM
Listening to : Bruised - Jack\'s Mannequin
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