Contact Author I was around the age of twelve, it was Halloween afternoon just after school let out.
Email This essay is adapted from an entry in Dr. Just two blocks from my apartment, I saw a large white object lurking in my peripheral vision.
It was an SUV that was slowing to a stop, or so I thought. In a split second, I was airborne. My leg collapsed under its own weight as I placed it on top of my right leg. The sensation was brutal and gruesome.
This is the story of my broken leg, hospitalization and lengthy recovery. The experience provided me with a valuable window into the world of the patient and changed my outlook on medicine. Also, I developed a greater understanding of the frustration and helplessness patients with limited mobility can feel.
Following the car-bike collision on that Saturday, I lay on the pavement in pain. Shortly after, the police and an ambulance showed up. I tried to breathe through the pain while the EMTs carefully wheeled me onto the rig.
The pain was at such a level that my head was swimming, but morphine helped to alleviate it. As I was wheeled into the trauma bay I remember seeing a blurry ocean of white and blue. I was bombarded with questions and probing hands as I felt the cold, hard sensation of trauma shears exposing my tattered naked body for all to see.
IV lines were placed. In my case, I also passed out. When I came to, I was in my own trauma room where my nurse was waiting for me to wake up and urinate.
She said the two words men fear the most: But the nurse placed the catheter with the utmost degree of professionalism and empathy. I felt instantaneous relief. I had officially become a human pincushion, or perhaps a mega-highway for IV fluids: They entered my hand and left via my catheter with a few stops along the way as my patient-controlled analgesia brought in numbing meds that made me oblivious to the whole ordeal.
The sensation of helplessness set in quickly. I needed help to move around in bed. How the heck do you think I feel? Eventually I was wheeled down to pre-op. The last thing I remember prior to surgery was the cold feel of the operating room and rubbery gas mask being placed over my face.
Many hours later when I woke up, my wife and a few of our friends were at my bedside. I managed to mumble something nonsensical before drifting back into sleep.
I stayed in the hospital for a week, but it seemed like an eternity. And with my sheet-white complexion, I looked like the ghost of my former self. I later learned that I developed acute blood loss anemia, for which I was transfused two units of blood.
When I was discharged, I had a bulky bionic-looking brace on my leg, crutches for getting around my house and a wheelchair for getting around town. My hopes of returning to school were starting to fade.
My then-pregnant wife, Senta, who is an occupational therapist, would become my personal care assistant. The line between home and work for her would be blurred for quite some time.
As I navigated my home and neighborhood, I developed a new understanding of how wonderful curb cutouts, automatic doors and elevators can be when one is reliant upon a wheelchair and the kindness of others to get places. In my wheelchair, I was sometimes treated like a substandard citizen.
Oblivious individuals nearly trampled over me while others ignored me or looked down upon me. My wife received looks of pity or horror from people around town as she helped wheel me around. Emotional trauma Independence, freedom and the ability to come and go as you please are very powerful.
Losing that independence made me feel like a major hindrance upon my loved ones. I was angry with the drunk driver who did this to me. I hated my leg and myself.Nov 22, · Requested video how I broke my leg and how a cast feels - Duration: Nicole Kaupas 1, views.
spraining my ankle | vlog - Duration: Jazzed Jes views. New;. Jun 06, · Blakely had a terrible accident while she and her family were on vacation in Florida.
She was hit by a car in a parking lot and broke her leg. A Personal Narrative Essay: How I Lost My Childhood. Updated on May 7, Lynsie Petig.
more. Contact Author There was something wrong with my left leg. It felt like a hollow log with a broken stick rattling around on the inside when ever I attempted to move it.
The pain was so excruciating and unfamiliar, unlike anything I had ever felt.
Apr 13, · A Personal Narrative Essay: How I Lost My Childhood. Updated on May 7, Lynsie Petig. more. Contact Author There was something wrong with my left leg.
It felt like a hollow log with a broken stick rattling around on the inside when ever I attempted to move it. The pain was so excruciating and unfamiliar, unlike anything I had ever felt Reviews: 3. This essay is adapted from an entry in Dr. Fosmire’s blog, DOctah Dad. This is the story of my broken leg, hospitalization and lengthy recovery.
It happened in during my second year at the University of New England College of Osteopathic Medicine in Biddeford. The experience provided me with a valuable window into the world of the. My Broken Ankle essaysA person really can't appreciate the small things in life until you have it all taken away from you.
I know this from many experiences. One of the longest times in my life was when I broke my ankle. The actual breaking of my ankle and the recovery time was the long and pai.