Have you missed me?

 This is my healthy hip as of like 12 days ago. I mean, it wasn't really healthy, but the damage was too new for an x-ray to reveal the stress fracture, only the MRI could do that. 

Its really annoying to me that I just spent like 31 minutes of my life that I can't get back trying to figure out trying to show you in detail where the break is, but maybe you can see it for yourself. Its to the left side of the neck, by all of the knobby stuff, and it went clear through, and shifted the bone upward somewhat, (shortening my already short leg) which made for fun jolting zingy feelings as the bone touched nerves and muscles QUITE unaccustomed and insulted at the notion of being touched by mere bone.  And it hurt, and it hurt like hell. In fact, I can say unequivocally that it hurt worse, perhaps eleventyish times worse than Jake's birth hurt. And that's sayin something. 

The new hip. This is not my actual hip, but an Internet pinched photo of someone elses. My Dad and Nate got to see an actual x ray of mine while I was in recovery, but I missed it due to being in some morphine like daze. Sounds about right. So what happened???? How did I get from spending the afternoon at the pool with my family on Sunday, to writhing on a stretcher on tremendous pain on Sunday night/monday morning being carted out of my home? Short answer? I don't know.

I went to sleep with a stress fracture and woke up with a broken leg. I fell on my crutches trying to get to the bathroom. I just know that I was screaming in pain, pain Nate could not calm me down from, pain he could not talk me down from, pain that when he said do we need to call an ambulance I said "fuck yes, OH fuck yes" because not only could I not move me, the thought of him trying to move me broke me out in a sweat and made me instantly nauseous. We called the ambulance around 1:30. They came. The transfer into the ambulance was one of the worst things I've lived through. I will say that several times through the course of this story.

As Nate had to stay with the kids I arrived solo and sweating and writhing and panting at the ER. Dr hot came in at one point and asked me what the problem was. I told him that I had a stress fracture in my femoral neck but I was certain that it had turned into a full break and I was afraid that it had displaced and that I was going to need surgery. He gave me that sort of hot doc smirk like "ohhhhhhh, some little housewife has been doing a little reading on the Internet, has she???". This infuriated me, as anyone who knows me knows how much I love being patronized and underestimated.  Turns out hot doc was not even a doc, but a PA. This comes into play later. So. Hot doc tells the nurses to get me a vicodin drip. Okay. That was like telling someone to kill a fly by swatting it with a tissue. Not so much. Me, writhing. Sending angry mean texts about hot doc and his private parts to Nate, at home with our children. We tried to rouse one or two friends to come stay with the kids so Nate could be with me, but shockingly at 2 am Sunday night no one had their cell phones nearby. I was alone, and in terrible, literal writhing pain. I never really understood what what an accurate term term "writhing pain" was until being in it. I could feel my hip crackling and popping, I could feel bone moving on and against bone, and I can tell you folks, those are feelings you simply don't ever want to feel. Ever. Hot doc came back in and asked how I was and I told him that his vicodin was like putting a band aid on an axe wound, but thank you very much for trying. He either didn't get or didn't appreciate my analogy. He ordered dilauded. Ahhhhh, dilauded. So fun going in. And then still, the pain. It just wasn't working. I was all alone, talking to myself, high as a kite and in pain. It would have been funny, if it didn't hurt. I finally fell asleep, around 3, because after being up all day with 3 kids, and being in pain for a solid 4  hours, that is what people tend to do when laying in the dark alone, pain or no pain. Its called survival. Hot doc walks in and says, well, it looks like you are feeling better, are you ready to go home?  (the rest of this conversation will be me speaking in caps, and hot doc in little letters, like his little brain)

GO HOME? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?

well, clearly you are feeling better, you are sleeping.

I'M SLEEPING BECAUSE YOU GAVE ME DRUGS AND I"M SLEEPING BECAUSE ITS 3 AM AND I'M SLEEPING BECAUSE I WAS CHASING 3 KIDS ALL DAY AND I'M SLEEPING BECAUSE THE PAIN FROM A BROKEN DISPLACED FEMUR IS SO BAD THAT MY BODY SIMPLY HAS SO IDEA WHAT ELSE TO DO.

so now you are a Dr and you have diagnosed a broken femur?

NO. NOW I AM A PERSON WHO HAS LIVED IN THIS BODY FOR 37 YEARS, WHO HAS BEEN AN ATHLETE ALL MY LIFE< WHO HAS KNOWN THE PAIN OF BEARING THREE CHILDREN, WHO HAS KNOWN THE PAIN OF RUNNING LONG DISTANCES< OF PUSHING MYSELF BEYOND WHERE MOST PEOPLE CAN.  I AM A PERSON WHO KNOWS WHAT A FRACTURED FEMUR FEELS LIKE AS I HAVE LIVED WITH ONE FOR THE PAST WEEK, AND I CAN TELL YOU THAT I NOW HAVE A BROKEN AND DISPLACED FEMORAL NECK. PLEASE, PLEASE GIVE ME AN X RAY. PLEASE , PLEASE DO NOT SEND ME HOME. I AM IN EXCRUCIATING PAIN. PLEASE HELP ME.

So, you think that you are a dr and can diagnosis a broken femur?

SO, YOU THINK THAT YOU ARE A DR AND THINK THAT YOU CAN DIAGNOSE THAT I CANT DIAGNOSE A BROKEN BONE? BECAUSE YOUR NAME TAG SEEMS TO INDICATE THAT YOU ARE SIMPLY A PHYSICIANS ASSISTANT. So, SINCE WE SEEM TO DISAGREE, HOW ABOUT WE GET SOMEONE MORE QUALIFIED THAN EITHER YOU OR I IN HERE< WHEEL ME INTO X RAY< AND TAKE CARE OF ME AS A PATIENT SHOULD BE TAKEN CARE OF? AND IF I AM WRONG YOU CAN FEEL VERY SMUG AND RIGHT AND HAPPY. AND IF I AM RIGHT WE CAN SAVE VALUABLE TIME IN NOT RISKING NECROSIS, LINING UP THE SURGEON OF MY CHOICE, TRANSFERRING ME TO THE HOSPITAL OF MY CHOICE, AND I CAN FEEL VERY SMUG AND HAPPY AND MORE IMPORTANTLY BE ONE STEP CLOSER TO SURGICAL REPAIR.

Sorry, I'm sending you home. There is nothing I can do for you at 3:30 am. Do you have a ride?

Me:TOTAL HATE EYES. I GAVE HIM THE ITALIAN EVIL EYE UPON HIM AND HIS OWN FEMURS. MAY THEY SHATTER ONE DAY UNDER BEARING THE BRUNT OF HIS EGO.

I called my Dad, bawling. It was one of those : "Dad Ev ev ev evvvvvv evv evvv evvreythings oh oh oh oh ohhhhhh ok. No no no no noooooo Gasp no no no nooooo no onees ones ones hurt. Kids okay. I'm at the hosp hosp hospitallllll and  and I need you to come pick me up because they wont help me and I Need to go home please can you please please come pick *gasp* me up I'm so sorry so sorry whenever you can come I'm here Im so sorry" etc etc etc.

My very calm cool and collected Dad said he would be right there. He was in utter disbelief that they could (or, would) do nothing other than tell me to contact my orthopedist in the AM. They wheel chaired me out to his car at 4 am. Getting me into his car took about 15 minutes as I had zero power to move my own leg, yet every movement made to it caused breathtaking pain. When we got to our house Nate met us in the driveway with my crutches. They somehow got me upright. I tried for 15 minutes to move my leg. I could not. I was weeping. I could not move my let one inch. At this point I was in a panic. They guys ended up bringing a chair out to the drive way and carried me into the house, Jewish wedding style. Never have I been more thankful for such a fit, young and strong Dad. Every move made me gasp or scream with pain. I am not exaggerating. Nate had made a couch into a bed for me. I took a vicoden, and tried to go to sleep. I spent a terrible night, and in the morning realized that I had to go to the bathroom but could not in any way shape or form get up. I texted Nate to please come help me. This is the part that breaks my heart. This is the part where my kids had to watch their Mom put her arms around their strong Dads neck as he pulled her to almost upright and transferred her to a wheeled chair, while she screamed in pain. He then wheeled me to the bathroom. The pain took my breath away. I just kept apologizing over and over, and feeling ashamed, and angry, and simply furious that I was here, like this, in front of my children.  We got them squared away thanks to good friends, and had to call another ambulance as there was simply no way for Nate to get me back into a car. Trip two was as painful and terrible as trip one. TWO direct intravenous rounds of dilauted still was not touching my pain. X ray revealed a complete break, with displacement. Huh. Funny, that was exactly what I had diagnosed hours ago, before being put through hours of unnecessary pain, transport, sleepnessness, humiliation, and expense.

This is NOT going to just go away, from my end. I am LIVID, and want thorough answers as to why a patient presenting with my symptoms was given a pat on her pretty little head, some pain medication, and sent home with a BROKEN FEMUR. I am not one to accept substandard care. The idea that this hospital could send AWAY a patient with a broken, displaced FEMUR makes me absolutely livid. I was begging for an X-Ray, and I was denied one because I didn't meet some arrogant PA's "profile" of who should have a broken hip. I, as a barely 37 tear old fit person, wouldn't have a broken hip, so despite my pleas and begging, I didn't get an x-ray. And so I was sent home, in agony. He was incompetent. More later. I need another nap. I had surgery within hours of my diagnosis. I am now the proud owner of a totally reconstructed hip ~ A plate, a 9' and 8' screw, and 2 nails. I feel like I'm wasting away to nothing. My body simply does not know what to do with all of this trauma coupled with all of this inactivity. This has been quite an ordeal for me......I wish I could describe the pain of a broken femur to you. Childbirth pales. This was  a grinding, sharp, breath taking, cant get away from it sort of pain that is simply unbearable. You instantly break into a sweat and your stomach lurches and you gasp and get chills and you just want to run away from it, but of course you can't even turn or move for that matter. Revovery has not been easy. I have been very drugged up pretty much around the clock since surgery. I have been in bed for all but  a few minutes a day. Friends have picked up the next few week of dinners, we have full time help for the next month, and I am just trying to keep my spirits up. I know that a full recovery will come, but I fear that there will be some dark, very dark days in between. This is very, very hard, my friends. Coming back from this will make my recovery from Jakes birth look like a cake walk.