Day 1

Hello, it's Ms. Webster. You may have noticed I'm not at school. This is because I injured myself-- I fractured my left ankle while skiing over the weekend.  This blog is for me to keep in touch with you and for you to keep in touch with me. You can comment on any blog to let me know how and what you're doing. Remember, I am at home on my couch with a gigantic cast on, bored out of my mind. So please, leave comments. 

So, here's what happened.

1) I am a sucky skier.

2) The hill was icy.

3) I lost my balance and fell.

4) Ouch, my left ankle hurt. Bad.

5) I fainted.

6) The ambulance took me to the hospital.

7) They took x-rays.

8) My ankle was fractured in 3 places.

9) They put a cast on it.

10) I have to have surgery.

I didn't even get to ski! This happened on the hill down from the lodge to the trail! I felt really stupid, like I'd ruined everyone's day. 

Tom and I spent most of yesterday in the Putnam Hospital. My leg hurt pretty bad, but if I didn't move it, the pain was less. I spent a while thinking, oh, this is just a sprain. They'll put a splint on it, and I'll be out of here. 

We waited a while, and then an orderly wheeled my gurney to the radiology lab, where they take x-rays. She took about three bajillion x-rays, which hurt because I had to keep moving my ankle into different positions. Then she wheeled me back to the little room where they had stashed me earlier. I cried a little and played Fuzzle on my phone. 

A male nurse came in and said, "Bad news, you fractured your ankle in three places. You will probably need surgery. Someone will come in and put you on an IV with some pain medication." 

He left, and I started crying.  My ankle hurt really bad now; knowing it was broken somehow made it worse. And the idea of surgery was scary. I've never had surgery before. I've never even broken anything before. And now here I was, crying into my ski gloves in a hospital, my ankle screwed up beyond recognition. It was swollen and disfigured. My toenails looked like little red-hots embedded into 5 pale sausages. 

Another nurse came in and started hooking me up to an IV. I have this problem where any time I get blood drawn, have to get a shot, hurt myself, or cut myself, I faint. This was no exception. I started blacking out, which was bad because I really had to pee, plus my ankle killed and the needle in my arm was taking forever, and I couldn't breathe real well. Tom, who has seem me do this before-- on our honeymoon, for instance, when I got food poisoning and fainted in the street-- explained the problem to the nurse, so she wheeled me into another room, where they hooked me up to one of those machines that beeps a lot and monitors your breathing and heart rate. Apparently I have very low blood pressure. 

We waited another kajillion hours, and then a doctor came in. He put my leg in a cast, which was maybe the most painful experience of the entire day, because he had to pull the bones back into place. I practiced deep breathing and tried not to pass out. He was nice about it.

After that, things got better. My ankle felt better, because it was stabilized. Plus, the pain meds helped. Go figure. 

We drove home to New York City. I parked my butt on the couch. We watched The Wire. I slept pretty well. 

The doctor said it would take about 6 weeks to heal. I can't imagine what it will be like having to lie here for 6 weeks; I guess I'll find out. My boxing instructor is pissed off.