And on a side note...
The injury reminded me just how beautiful the world is. I was happy for weeks. Everything made brought a smile to my face. Isn't that strange? I certainly wasn't happy about having stitches in my foot, yet I couldn't not be cheerful about everything else.
Monday, August 29, 2005
no comment
You may have noticed a lack of interesting stories from my past recently. It's because I've been living an interesting story right now. Wanna hear? Then read on!
About 3 weeks ago, I stepped on a broken mason jar and sliced my foot open. Oddly enough, it was while I was on the phone with my doctor's office. When I looked at my foot, I thought I'd cut it all the way across the arch. I cussed into the phone, then told them calmly that I'd have to call them back. Because right now, I needed to go to the emergency room and get stitches.
A tiny part of me was freaking out. The rest of my brain was saying, "Cool! Stitches! I've never had stitches! except for, you know, giving birth; and that's not the same."
My husband was home at the time (thankfully), and he bandaged my foot and drove me to St. Anthony's. We could have gone to a closer hospital (like Barnes) but I wanted a hospital with an empty waiting room. I didn't want to wait for hours to get my foot fixed. Had we gone to Barnes, I'd probably still be there.
So we went to St. Anthony's. This is where I discovered that I cope well with pressure. I stayed calm during the 15 minute drive. My mind would start to think of the horrors beneath the bandage, the risk of infection, whether I'd be able to walk -and I'd just change the channel. Yeah, that medical stuff is interesting; let's see what's on CNN.
Along the way, my Hubby said, "I'm so proud of you. You're staying so calm."
What, are you kidding me? I was terrified. I just didn't see how crying and screaming would help the situation. As a matter of fact, I could see several ways that crying and screaming would hurt. It would raise my blood pressure, which would cause more blood loss. It would upset my husband, who I was relying on to get me to help. It would frighten my son. No, breaking down would not help at all.
I almost broke down at the entrance to the ER. They saw me getting out of the truck and met me with a wheelchair. I realized thees people would fix me, and I started to cry. Out of relief. Suddenly, it wasn't just me holding my foot and self together. There were people I could pass this on to.
And just like that, the tears dried up.
I returned to the calm, interested, semi-trance I'd been in on the drive. When they triaged me, my BP was 129 over 73. See how calm I was?
I spent the next half hour or so laying on the waiting room floor with my foot on a chair -that being the best way to stay calm. I became fascinated with the workings of my own body. There would be a wave of pain through my foot, followed by a brief spurt of endorphins. The sudden lack of pain would remind me that I have a foot that I'm trying to ignore. Which would freak me out, like spiders tickiling the edges of my mind. I would take deep "calming" breaths, and think, "Nothing to do but wait..." Then my nostrils would start twitching. I don't know why. It was like a tic in my nose. It would spasm with each heartbeat, and since I have mitral valve prolapse, my nose was kind of dancing to it's own rhythm. Which I found hilarious. So I'd giggle. Which made my foot hurt...
So. After a period of pain waving, endorphin riding, nose twitching fun; I was taken to a room for my stitches. This is where it got ugly.
A woman came in for my insurance card and asked me questions I couldn't answer. I must have used up my endorphin stash in the waiting room, because having labor-like pains in my foot that left me breathless. My hubby answered for me, and the woman left with my insurance card.
A nurse came in and chatted with me as she removed my makeshift bandage (toilet paper and gauze tape). "I'm going to take off your bandage and have a look."
There was a small package of cleaning supplies by her side. Yeah, this was going to hurt. I told her, "It's pretty bad."
She replied, "Yeah. Foot trauma can be..."
I'll never know what foot trauma can be, because she'd removed the bandage at that point and gotten her first look at my little cut. Her face lost a little color and she quickly put a fresh bandage on my foot.
I had been thinking, "It's not as bad as it first looked. Injuries never are." And it wasn't. The gash was only 2 inches wide. The bleeding had mostly stopped. And the cut looked like I'd used a scalpel, rather than the raggedy tear I was expecting. Who knew that glass can cut like a knife?
Nonetheless, seeing my wound gave me the shakes. The nurse said, "That's very deep. You'll probably need an x-ray. The doctor will be in in a moment, and he'll give you an anesthetic."
She smiled gently and asked, "Does it hurt?"
I said, "not as much as I'd expected."
She said again, "You'll probably get an x-ray." And left the room.
My hubby was holding my hand, and I looked over at my son, realizing that he had chosen the chair that was right beside my foot. He was practically at eye level with the gash the nurse had just bandaged. Shit. I didn't want him to see that.
So I asked him, "Did you see my foot?"
He said, "No! I closed my eyes."
Good. I stopped shaking.
About that time, the doctor came in. He pulled back the bandage enough to get a peek an my cut, then sat down to talk with me. His bedside manner rocked. He explained that since I'd cut my foot on glass, he would have to probe around and see if there was any left. He seemed genuinely contrite that he would have to use an anesthetic during this procedure. He warned me that the shots of Lidocaine would hurt very much. Something about how the nerves in the foot react. I knew he was telling the truth.
But. There was nothing to be done about it. And at the end of it, I'd be numb. That was a good thing. Besides, I'd delivered a 10 lb. baby without anesthesia. How much worse could it be?
.
.
.
It was worse. Much, much worse. So much so, that I don't really remember it.
I remember him holding my foot down and saying, "Try very hard not to kick me. You don't want the needle to break off in your foot, and neither do I."
I was laying on my tummy, with my husband holding my hand and arm; braced for the worst. The doctor verbally walked me through everything he was doing as he prepped my foot. And then came the injections. I felt the needle go in, not too bad... The doctor said, I'm going to start injecting. Try not to kick. Are you ready?"
I said, "Ok, go." And made myself go limp, like you do before a tetanus shot. (They gave me one of those, too.)
Then I said, "Ooooooooooooooh!"
Ok, that sucked. Next shot.
"Aaaaaaaaahhh..Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah."
On the 4th shot, I lost vision for a bit. I recall thinking how interesting it was that it hurt so badly I couldn't see. And there were more shots coming. Toward the end, I was screaming. But my leg never moved. I didn't so much as twitch. I'm grateful for that. But the pain? No memory of it whatsoever. It's gone. It was gone the instant it stopped. Like it never was.
As a result, I could endure another round of Lidocaine. Because as far as my mind was concerned, it was nothing.
Then he probed around in my foot, cleaned it thoroughly, stitched me up, and went on to his next patient.
He talked me through the whole thing. My foot was glass free. The gash was 3/4ths of an inch deep and about 2 inches long. The cut was very clean and should heal fine. Because of the depth, he gave me antibiotics. I didn't need him to explain how much an infection would suck. I knew that one already.
Here is a pic of my stitches, the first time I had the dressing changed:
Stitches
And here it is the day the stitches came out:
No stitches
It healed very nicely. I can walk pretty well, although I've got a bit of nerve damage on the ball of my foot and in my big toe. Hopefully, my doctor will come through and give me a referral for physical therapy. I called today and asked for it.
The phenomenon they call "phantom pain" is quite an experience. I don't recommend it. It's really weird when you can "feel" your big toe in your other big toe, if that makes any sense. Plus, your brain makes up random sensations at inconvenient times. I think it's testing out different things, just to see if it gets a signal back. The day before yesterday, it felt like my foot was asleep all around the numb spot. You know, that pins and needles feeling? Today, it feels like I have a splinter.
A really strange one it when my brain says "Foot Cramp!" and my foot doesn't do a damned thing. I look, and it's just sitting there, being a foot. No cramping, no anything. Odd.
They say the nerves will grow back, or re-route, or something.
If nothing else, it's interesting.
You may have noticed a lack of interesting stories from my past recently. It's because I've been living an interesting story right now. Wanna hear? Then read on!
About 3 weeks ago, I stepped on a broken mason jar and sliced my foot open. Oddly enough, it was while I was on the phone with my doctor's office. When I looked at my foot, I thought I'd cut it all the way across the arch. I cussed into the phone, then told them calmly that I'd have to call them back. Because right now, I needed to go to the emergency room and get stitches.
A tiny part of me was freaking out. The rest of my brain was saying, "Cool! Stitches! I've never had stitches! except for, you know, giving birth; and that's not the same."
My husband was home at the time (thankfully), and he bandaged my foot and drove me to St. Anthony's. We could have gone to a closer hospital (like Barnes) but I wanted a hospital with an empty waiting room. I didn't want to wait for hours to get my foot fixed. Had we gone to Barnes, I'd probably still be there.
So we went to St. Anthony's. This is where I discovered that I cope well with pressure. I stayed calm during the 15 minute drive. My mind would start to think of the horrors beneath the bandage, the risk of infection, whether I'd be able to walk -and I'd just change the channel. Yeah, that medical stuff is interesting; let's see what's on CNN.
Along the way, my Hubby said, "I'm so proud of you. You're staying so calm."
What, are you kidding me? I was terrified. I just didn't see how crying and screaming would help the situation. As a matter of fact, I could see several ways that crying and screaming would hurt. It would raise my blood pressure, which would cause more blood loss. It would upset my husband, who I was relying on to get me to help. It would frighten my son. No, breaking down would not help at all.
I almost broke down at the entrance to the ER. They saw me getting out of the truck and met me with a wheelchair. I realized thees people would fix me, and I started to cry. Out of relief. Suddenly, it wasn't just me holding my foot and self together. There were people I could pass this on to.
And just like that, the tears dried up.
I returned to the calm, interested, semi-trance I'd been in on the drive. When they triaged me, my BP was 129 over 73. See how calm I was?
I spent the next half hour or so laying on the waiting room floor with my foot on a chair -that being the best way to stay calm. I became fascinated with the workings of my own body. There would be a wave of pain through my foot, followed by a brief spurt of endorphins. The sudden lack of pain would remind me that I have a foot that I'm trying to ignore. Which would freak me out, like spiders tickiling the edges of my mind. I would take deep "calming" breaths, and think, "Nothing to do but wait..." Then my nostrils would start twitching. I don't know why. It was like a tic in my nose. It would spasm with each heartbeat, and since I have mitral valve prolapse, my nose was kind of dancing to it's own rhythm. Which I found hilarious. So I'd giggle. Which made my foot hurt...
So. After a period of pain waving, endorphin riding, nose twitching fun; I was taken to a room for my stitches. This is where it got ugly.
A woman came in for my insurance card and asked me questions I couldn't answer. I must have used up my endorphin stash in the waiting room, because having labor-like pains in my foot that left me breathless. My hubby answered for me, and the woman left with my insurance card.
A nurse came in and chatted with me as she removed my makeshift bandage (toilet paper and gauze tape). "I'm going to take off your bandage and have a look."
There was a small package of cleaning supplies by her side. Yeah, this was going to hurt. I told her, "It's pretty bad."
She replied, "Yeah. Foot trauma can be..."
I'll never know what foot trauma can be, because she'd removed the bandage at that point and gotten her first look at my little cut. Her face lost a little color and she quickly put a fresh bandage on my foot.
I had been thinking, "It's not as bad as it first looked. Injuries never are." And it wasn't. The gash was only 2 inches wide. The bleeding had mostly stopped. And the cut looked like I'd used a scalpel, rather than the raggedy tear I was expecting. Who knew that glass can cut like a knife?
Nonetheless, seeing my wound gave me the shakes. The nurse said, "That's very deep. You'll probably need an x-ray. The doctor will be in in a moment, and he'll give you an anesthetic."
She smiled gently and asked, "Does it hurt?"
I said, "not as much as I'd expected."
She said again, "You'll probably get an x-ray." And left the room.
My hubby was holding my hand, and I looked over at my son, realizing that he had chosen the chair that was right beside my foot. He was practically at eye level with the gash the nurse had just bandaged. Shit. I didn't want him to see that.
So I asked him, "Did you see my foot?"
He said, "No! I closed my eyes."
Good. I stopped shaking.
About that time, the doctor came in. He pulled back the bandage enough to get a peek an my cut, then sat down to talk with me. His bedside manner rocked. He explained that since I'd cut my foot on glass, he would have to probe around and see if there was any left. He seemed genuinely contrite that he would have to use an anesthetic during this procedure. He warned me that the shots of Lidocaine would hurt very much. Something about how the nerves in the foot react. I knew he was telling the truth.
But. There was nothing to be done about it. And at the end of it, I'd be numb. That was a good thing. Besides, I'd delivered a 10 lb. baby without anesthesia. How much worse could it be?
.
.
.
It was worse. Much, much worse. So much so, that I don't really remember it.
I remember him holding my foot down and saying, "Try very hard not to kick me. You don't want the needle to break off in your foot, and neither do I."
I was laying on my tummy, with my husband holding my hand and arm; braced for the worst. The doctor verbally walked me through everything he was doing as he prepped my foot. And then came the injections. I felt the needle go in, not too bad... The doctor said, I'm going to start injecting. Try not to kick. Are you ready?"
I said, "Ok, go." And made myself go limp, like you do before a tetanus shot. (They gave me one of those, too.)
Then I said, "Ooooooooooooooh!"
Ok, that sucked. Next shot.
"Aaaaaaaaahhh..Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah."
On the 4th shot, I lost vision for a bit. I recall thinking how interesting it was that it hurt so badly I couldn't see. And there were more shots coming. Toward the end, I was screaming. But my leg never moved. I didn't so much as twitch. I'm grateful for that. But the pain? No memory of it whatsoever. It's gone. It was gone the instant it stopped. Like it never was.
As a result, I could endure another round of Lidocaine. Because as far as my mind was concerned, it was nothing.
Then he probed around in my foot, cleaned it thoroughly, stitched me up, and went on to his next patient.
He talked me through the whole thing. My foot was glass free. The gash was 3/4ths of an inch deep and about 2 inches long. The cut was very clean and should heal fine. Because of the depth, he gave me antibiotics. I didn't need him to explain how much an infection would suck. I knew that one already.
Here is a pic of my stitches, the first time I had the dressing changed:
Stitches
And here it is the day the stitches came out:
No stitches
It healed very nicely. I can walk pretty well, although I've got a bit of nerve damage on the ball of my foot and in my big toe. Hopefully, my doctor will come through and give me a referral for physical therapy. I called today and asked for it.
The phenomenon they call "phantom pain" is quite an experience. I don't recommend it. It's really weird when you can "feel" your big toe in your other big toe, if that makes any sense. Plus, your brain makes up random sensations at inconvenient times. I think it's testing out different things, just to see if it gets a signal back. The day before yesterday, it felt like my foot was asleep all around the numb spot. You know, that pins and needles feeling? Today, it feels like I have a splinter.
A really strange one it when my brain says "Foot Cramp!" and my foot doesn't do a damned thing. I look, and it's just sitting there, being a foot. No cramping, no anything. Odd.
They say the nerves will grow back, or re-route, or something.
If nothing else, it's interesting.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
