A Last Exciting Adventure

We've had a very exciting month, and I haven't had the chances to blog that I would have liked. I broke both bones in my leg just above the ankle and had surgery to fix it that afternoon (13 screws, 1 plate, 3 incisions, and 24 stitches), and spent a week in the hospital. It will be 4 months before I can walk without crutches, but at least I don't have a cast and I can take showers.

On Monday, 6 March, I left for work at 9:05 to catch the 9:10 bus, late, as usual, for a Monday morning, and especially after I've given my resignation and I just don't care anymore.

I had almost gotten stuck in the office on the Friday before. The snow was falling so heavily then that the roads were completely impassable for a time, but I found a bus to get me home. So I started out Monday very carefully on icy roads.

But careful doesn't really help someone who is as graceful as I can be, and I fell on the ice, just on the far side of the street from our house. I knew the second it happened it was broken -- I heard it crack. I was lying on the road with my knees pointing to the sky, and my right foot lying at an impossible angle. I was thinking about how to crawl back across the street safely, when I thought that maybe I should try first to flag down a car, if for no other reason than to protect me as I crawled back across the road. The first car I saw stopped when I waved. It turned out the driver was the British man who lives down the street, the one who works at Eurostat and has three daughters. He called for an ambulance, went up to the house to get Darin, arranged for his wife to look in on the kids for later, and translated for me the people who came along to help in various ways.

Darin brought some blankets from the house to keep me warm, and I suppose it helped, but I was still lying on a sheet of ice on the street. No one wanted to move me at all in case something else was wrong. I really thought that my bum was fine, and I could have rolled over enough to have some the blankets on my backside instead of just piled on the top. My leg really hurt, and it hurt even more when I shivered.

There was a man from the commune who brought me some kind of space-age metallic blanket, and he was calling to check on the various ambulances that were or weren't coming. He was also trying to make sure that no one ran over me with their cars. Someone called a local doctor, and he came out to check on me. He kept checking my pulse and asking "doctor" questions about previous injuries and allergies. I am allergic to codeine in its various forms, which is a pain-killer, so it's important to share that information when you are lying there in pain. Fortunately for me, the French words for "allergy" and "codeine" are the same as in English. He also kept telling me to stay calm. I would have been calmer if I'd been warmer and on pain medication.

Because of all the snow and ice, there had been a lot of accidents and falls that morning. The ambulance from Mamer couldn't come, and they had to send one from Steinfort instead. The ambulance didn't come until about 10:10 or so, with me finally in the ambulance by 10:28. They first put my leg and foot in this balloon-thing and blew it up to keep it still. Then the guys acted like they were going to pick me up by my legs to put me on the stretcher, and I started to panic. But they got out the back-board, so that part was OK. They took the Autobahn most of the way to the hospital, but every bump hurt.

They took me straight to radiology, and I got to bump some people from the line since I was in the most pain. It was here that I finally was able to take off my coat and ask for some blankets. The technician tried to get me to put my coat back on, but then noticed how cold and wet it was. That's what happens when you're lying on the ice for more than an hour. They also took x-rays of my chest in preparation for surgery.

I was out of radiology and back to admitting by 11:30, and I kept asking for my husband (in English, German, and French) and pain medication, but no one would help me. It was a terrible feeling. No one wanted to speak English with me, and I couldn't think straight enough to try to understand anyone else's German or French. I really wanted Darin. They kept mentioning surgery, and I was afraid that Darin wasn't getting the word. At 12:30 they started the IV so I could finally get some pain relief. At 13:30 I finally saw a doctor, and I explained to him that I needed to talk to my husband. He mentioned that to a nurse, and she told him (in French) that I had already spoken to my husband on the telephone. But I hadn't. I told the doctor that my husband wasn't at home, he was somewhere in the hospital and no one would find him for me. When he told this to the nurse, she looked a bit panicked. At least someone eventually told Darin something. I didn't get to see him during the ambulance ride, and hardly at all at the hospital. I really wish they had let us be together more. I was so stressed and in so much pain, and I really needed someone to talk to who could understand me.

By 14:00, the pain meds had kicked in fully, and they started taking me to pre-op. The doctors seemed all very nice, so I was fairly calm, except that I was still worried that they weren't telling Darin anything.

I woke up about 18:30 in the post-op ward. I couldn't remember where I was or why I was there. I was looking for Darin, and I somehow had it in my head that I couldn't find Darin because they wouldn't tell him where I was. People around me were talking, but I couldn't understand anything they were saying. I remember thinking that something was wrong with my hearing. I eventually remembered that I was in Luxembourg and that I had fallen and needed surgery. And that I was right about Darin -- he wouldn't be there. I started crying and then throwing up. They gave me some medicine and I went back to sleep.

About 19:00 I was awake again, and some nurses came to take me to my room. The nurse said that when my husband realized he couldn't see me, he went home, but he had called already and he would call me again. That made me feel better somewhat, even though I still missed him. I was upset that Darin had spent the whole day in the hospital for nothing, when I knew he'd be worried about all the packing we still had to do back at the house. I knew that the kids would feel better if Darin was at home, too.

I had a terrible night that night, and a bad day on Tuesday, and another bad night on Tuesday night. I was throwing up all the time, mostly just dry heaves because I hadn't eaten or had anything to drink. I was so thirsty, and my hands had swollen.

Tuesday evening I got a new roommate who was really loud and annoying, but she was gone most of the day on Wednesday to have her surgery, so that helped me to feel better and get some rest also.

On Wednesday I asked to be taken off one of the pain medications. I tried not to push the button so much during the night on Tuesday night, and I woke up feeling slightly less nauseated. By lunch I was feeling better, and lunch was good: roast beef, mashed potatoes, gravy, and sandwich bread. So I made myself a roast beef sandwich. It reminded me of my Grandpa.

The physical therapist came by for the first time on Wednesday. She showed me some exercises to do, and we practiced for a little bit on my new crutches. I still had the IV in my arm and drainage tubes coming out of my leg, so it was very difficult for me to walk anywhere without help.

My pastor, Joan, came by to visit Wednesday, and she bought me a card for the phone. I could get incoming calls, but I couldn't call out without the card. She put 20 euros on the card, but I didn't use it all, so we got some back and paid her back. She also went to the gift shop and bought me a brush, some lip stuff, hand lotion, a National Geographic, and a Ladies' Home Journal.

Also on Wednesday, Darin took a break from packing to come visit. He hitched a ride with the British lady down the street and then later rode the bus back to Kehlen. It was really nice to see him.

Since now I have a phone, I called my office and left my number, and my boss called me this evening to ask if I could send a file to him. I told him that was impossible. The whole conversation was so funny. I was regretting that I had called the office after all. My boss had called the house on Tuesday looking for me. Darin told him I was in the hospital because of surgery, but Darin wouldn't give him my number then. It turned out that Darin had the right idea.

Wednesday afternoon the doctor decided that since I was eating and drinking now, they could take me off the IV. The doctor also had the nurses rebandage my leg and pull out the tubes. My leg was in a "splint" that was essentially just half a cast on the underside of my shin and the bottom of my foot, and then wrapped up in gauze and ace bandages. I kept telling people that the splint was too tight and it was hurting my little toe, a casualty of my broken foot from 16 years ago. They would ask me if I felt pin-pricks or ants crawling. I know they were asking about a lack of circulation, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was that the splint was crushing my little toes. I kept asking if we couldn't do something to not squish my toes. They kept telling me it wasn't too tight. I don't think it was a language problem as much as it was that they thought they knew more than I did about my own pain. I couldn't convince them that the toe was a previous condition. I suppose it would have been easier if they had spoken better English, or if I could have explained everything in French. So they took off the splint, rebandaged everything and put the splint back on, only without the drainage tubes. My little toe was very sad.

On Thursday, the physical therapist came about 8:00, and she had me walk down to the sunroom, and my nurses brought me breakfast there. It was a nice change. They I walked back and went to bed. It was really hard work.

When the doctor came, he told them to rebandage my leg again without the splint. I was so happy, for the sake of my little toe. They put lovely white support hose on both legs.

Lunch was stuffed chicken and rice, really good, with really good soup. We usually get something really nice for desert also, and Thursday it was something made from strawberries. Breakfast was usually a hard German-type roll with packs of butter, jam, and sometimes Philly cream cheese, and fruit and yogurt. Supper was usually some kind of cold salad, like tuna or salmon with vegetables, good soup, and fruit for desert. Generally speaking, the hospital food was much better than any hospital food I'd ever had in the States.

Liz from church called and then came by in the afternoon. She said she is addicted to Suduko puzzles, and I should like them since math people like logic puzzles. She brought probably twenty of them, clipped from the newspaper. Some of them weren't clipped out yet, so I was able to read some news from England on the back of the "puzzle page."

Then Marco called from the office, and he asked if there was anything from the office that I needed. I told him it would help if he could bring me my CDs I had left in my desk because then we could get them packed in the container. So he and Gabriella came by this evening, and not only did he bring my CDs, he had bought me a small CD player for me to use in the hospital, and 3 cans of Coke Light. Gabriella bought me a big yellow flower in a cute little pot. While they were there, someone came with a big bouquet of pink rose buds and pink lilies. I took the card, and Gabriella asked who sent them. I told her that she had because the card said they were from the "team", but obviously sent by my boss. They were really pretty. I love pink lilies and roses.

That evening Joan and Chris, our pastors, had the kids over for dinner and to meet their dog (who likes to eat girls, they were told), and then Joan brought the girls to the hospital for a visit. It was really nice to see all the girls. I taught them my exercises so that they could help me, and we talked about how the packing was going. I gave them most of my CDs to take home so they would be packed in the container.

Thursday night felt very lonely.

The nice night nurse, the one who speaks English was me, wasn't around on Thursday night and Friday night, and when I complained about pain, I didn't get the usual shot in the bum for pain, but only the fizzy tablets in water.

My parents had been calling me every night at about 18:00, and on Friday, Darin's parents called me, too, so that was cool. Daddy said that my friend Kathy had been trying to get in touch with me. He called her "your Kathy" because he had temporarily forgotten her married name. I didn't need a last name -- I knew who he meant when he said "your Kathy." I was glad he told me about it, and I was glad that Kathy was thinking about me, but it made me sad that I couldn't call her. I really wanted to talk to her.

Saturday they wanted me to get out of bed for breakfast, but I wouldn't get up. So for lunch, they set the tray on the table for both me and my roommate, forcing us both to get out of bed. The nurses were complaining that we were being lazy. My roommate finally spoke to me some. She had said earlier that she didn't know English, but her English was fine. (Lunch was a salmon pastry thing that was very good.) At supper, they did the same thing, making us eat at the table. (Supper was cold tomatoes and cheese.) We decided to show them that we could move if we wanted, and the two of us took a walk down to the sun room, rested, and then came back.

Then this one nurse I didn't like, partly because she didn't even try to speak anything except Luxembourgish, and partly because she wouldn't stop talking, decided I needed my bandages changed. I told her that the doctor said they were fine, but she insisted. The bandage changing was fine, but she almost killed me trying to get the white support hose back on. I had told my roommate at supper about my earlier accident, and how much the splint had hurt my little toe, and how I couldn't seem to explain to the nurses that they needed to be careful of both my little toe and my ankle. So my roommate explained it to this nurse in Luxembourgish, and she still managed to bang up both sides of my ankle and almost tear off my little toe.

Then my roommate wanted to watch "Deutschland Superstar", Germany's version of "American Idol", and she said if I didn't mind, we could watch it together (we had separate TVs, but I hadn't ever gotten mine to work). It was down to the final three contestants, so the singing was pretty good. The first guy, Mike, started out singing "Mandy", not my favorite song, but it reminds me of that Ray Stevens song. The girl sang something I can't remember, and sang it like she was nervous. The next guy, Tobias, sang "Are we having fun yet?", and did a good job. Then Mike sang "Against All Odds", a song that always makes me cry. Then Jessica sang Whitney Houston's "Greatest Love", another song that makes me cry, except that Jessica sounded bad at the end. Then Tobias sang a sad song about how his girl will always be there with him even though she's gone. When they went to commercial, I rang for the nurse to get my pain pill for the night, thinking the show was almost over. After the break, they all got to sing a dedication song. Mike sang to Jessica "She's so Beautiful to Me" and had Jessica crying, and then I was crying. Then Jessica sang a song for her sister, a song I didn't know, and it was in German, but she sang it really well, and the words were so beautiful, and I was thinking about Kathy, and then I was really crying, with tears running down my face and neck. Right when the song ended the nurse comes in, and I ask for my pain pill, and she's worried because I'm crying. I'm explaining that it was a really beautiful song on the TV, and my roommate is trying to explain it to her also, but she's still worried about the both of us. It was pretty funny, except that we couldn't stop crying.

So when the show was over, I'm still thinking about Kathy, and feeling sorry for myself. But then I decide that thinking about Kathy should make me happy because there are so many good memories, so I start thinking about happy things (like that "insane, but preppie" email). Many of my happy memories involve all my friends at Census, so I fell asleep that night thinking about Kathy, Joe, Amy, Suzanne, and Lynn, and I feel asleep laughing.

In the morning, I had this dream that Darin and I, Kathy and her husband Dave, and Joe, were in Kathy and Dave's RV on our way to Mardi Gras in New Orleans. I was still on crutches. And Joe's wife didn't want to come with us. Joe suggested we stop at a Walmart on the way to buy souvenirs. I stayed in the RV. Joe came back from shopping and showed me this really ugly, wild Hawaiian shirt, and said, "I bought this for Steve, but now I'm not so sure. Is this too gay, or should I buy him a dress instead?" I woke up then, laughing. It was my best night so far. I slept straight from 23:30 to 5:50. (By the way, the dream won't make any sense to Joe either, I'm sure. I have no idea who Steve is, or what the dream means, but it did cheer me up.)

Sunday morning my roommate started throwing up and had a really bad day. Wendy from church came by, but my roommate had lots of loud visitors, sometimes as many as 8 in our really small room (with no curtains to pull either, so to keep some modesty, I have to stay under the covers even though it's hot in the room).

But my little toe is feeling a lot better. And I'm really thankful for my friends, even if I'm too far away from home for them to come visit.

Monday morning I proved to the physical therapist that I could be released by walking up and back down a flight of stairs. It was really tiring. My doctor said I'm making good progress, and he released me. Fortunately, there were no stairs at our house in Luxembourg, and now that I'm at Mom and Dad's, I can just crawl up the stairs. Luxembourg does not seem to be very handicapped and wheelchair friendly, compared to the US. I think that I'll find a way to avoid stairs for the most part.

Kathy called me at the hospital on the afternoon I was released. It was so good to hear her voice. If she only knew how much I've been thinking about her. I wonder if she knows how much I appreciate her? I really appreciated the regular phone calls from my parents also. It really gave me something to look forward to every day.

So I celebrated my 52nd Monday in Luxembourg by coming home from the hospital.

My doctor says I can't work for six weeks, and he was totally OK with our going back to the States. So just about the time we forced my boss to agree to our schedule for a final day, I didn't go back to work anyway.

ttfn