Frozen Vegetables

I returned home from the hospital on Thursday afternoon, and my mom arrived in Jersey City on Friday night. The five days in the hospital, while important, aren't really something I want to write extensively about right now...I may publish a post about it later when it's less fresh in my mind. Mom's help is greatly appreciated--she's willing to run to the store to fulfill my slightest craving...fashion "one-legged" sweatpants for me, and fetch frozen vegetables (our preferred mode of "icing" my leg) from the kitchen (hence the title of this entry).

I've been blessed with lots of visitors and people who are willing to help me, including, but not limited to:

-Vickie and Gayle, the never tiring roommates who willingly help me get to the bathroom, to my bed, to the couch...and that's about the limit of my mobility at this point.

-Stephanie and Meg, who came over to wash my hair on Friday, thankfully! I was beginning to feel like the can of grease sitting next to our kitchen sink to catch Gayle's bacon drippings. This procedure involved a bucket, a dishpan, a trash bag, and lots of warm water. And me, of course, flat on my back, as usual.

-Kathryn, who tempts me with tasty tidbits even though my appetite is not so great yet.

-All the people who have offered to bring me meals, and bring enough for a whole family! (I'm talking to you, Anita!) I now have enough lentil stew in my freezer to feed an army of vegetarians.

To The Hospital

Well, while we waited for the ambulance to come, it seemed like I was a sled magnet. Even though Gayle and Kevin had somehow gotten me to the edge of the park, STILL there were people who couldn't control their sleds enough to avoid me. So, Vickie and Gayle set themselves up as a "body shield" for me, successfully diverting all sled traffic until the ambulance arrived.

I am sad to say that I did NOT have full confidence in my EMT's. The large one was obviously in charge and possibly was training the thin one in the art of tying a splint on my leg. That's what it SEEMED like...and in Jersey City, you just never know if somebody has really been trained/certified or if their Uncle Joe on the city council used his influence to pass them through the course.

After that, though, they seemed to know what they were doing for the most part, got me on a stretcher, and into the ambulance. (This was a day of firsts--my first time in an ambulance, my first time on a stretcher, my first broken bone...) Shortly thereafter, we arrived at Christ Hospital, just a few blocks from my house, and made our way into the emergency room.

I have to say, the people in the ER at Christ Hospital are pretty darn good. Tom the X-ray man very gently lifted me onto the table, Thomas the elderly Indian orderly made sure I was comfortable, Tessie the Filipino nurse told me jokes and assured me of the love of God as she hooked me up to an IV, and Dr. Augustin, the (extremely) attractive young doctor, gave me really bad news with the best bedside (actually, wheelchairside) manner.

Not to mention my wonderful roommates, Gayle and Vickie, my neighbor Kevin, my colleague Cindy, and my priest Janet, who took the role of "griller", demanding of Dr. Augustin where he went to med school and where he did his residency. Janet was satisfied (if not impressed!) with his answers, but still requested a consultation with her trusted orthopedic surgeon in the city, who had treated her brother's similarly broken leg.

Well, one thing led to another, and I was checked into the hospital and arrived in my room at about 9:30. By this time, the nurses had started me on Percocet, for which I was very grateful. More later.

The Fated Sledding Incident

So, last Sunday, the 23rd, my roommates Vickie and Gayle, and my neighbor Kevin, decided to go sledding at Mosquito Hill, a park just down the street from 104 Manhattan, my domicile for the past two and a half years. I, of course, had spent the last two rainy, foggy, sunny months looking forward to the day when I would be able to go sledding, so it was a no-brainer that I would leave my comfy couch and join them. And off we went.

The first ride down the hill was fast, bumpy, and full of jolts. Most of us made it down the hill fine, but Kevin landed flat on his back, which knocked the wind out of him...You would think that that would have given us a clue...but of course, we decided to find an even steeper, slipperier (is that a word? I don't think so...anyway....) and bumpier part of the hill to go down. Gayle went down on the saucer/disk/whatever you prefer to call a round sled...and bumped the whole way down. Vickie and I took the double sled, with me in the front sitting "Indian-style" and her in the back, with her legs around me. As we started sliding over the edge of the hill, one of us said "This is daunting..."...but of COURSE, we both then said.."Aw, we gotta just suck it up and go. We're such wusses..." or something like that.

And down we went.

The first bump was no problem. A little jarring, but we landed the right way.

The second bump was a little different. We flew off of it, turned, flipped, and both landed on my right leg, which happened to somehow be bent the wrong way. I totally knew it had broken...not because of the pain, but just because of the "wrongness" of how it felt.

I touched it. BAD idea. The bone moved. Ew. By this time, Vickie had gotten her legs out of the tangle that was us...and ran back to the house to get help. Kevin, of course, very sore and still on top of the hill, and Gayle, next to me at the bottom of the hill, were trying valiantly to communicate with sign language: LEG! (point to leg) BROKEN? (motion of snapping a stick in half) CALL 911? (make hand into phone). Of course, making this whole scene even more interesting was the fact that there were still sledders eagerly zipping down this death-trap of a hill. Towards me.

Needless to say, Gayle and I decided to move me, somehow, to the fence, where I would be somewhat more protected. Of course, since I couldn't feel my foot at this point, every time I unknowingly hit my foot against something my leg would basically explode with pain. Not fun. By this time, Kevin had made it down the hill and had found a guy with a cell phone...we called my neighbor, who found my insurance information and began to dig her van out from the 16 inches of snow that had buried it in the blizzard the day before, with the help of Vickie, who had just arrived back home.

Partway through that, they realized that it was too time-consuming to continue, and called an ambulance to pick me up at the park. So, there I was, laying on the snow at the park, waiting for an ambulance...and I'll write more later.