I have never had surgery, been put under, been admitted to a hospital, needed to be transported in an ambulance, broken bones, or hurt myself this bad. I was just so worried in the ambulance that I could possibly lose my foot but I could move my toes and that was my constant reminder of faith. Upon arriving at the best hospital in Oregon is when I finally broke and started to cry. I have watched 16 seasons of Greys Anatomy but this was real life and I was scared.
I was taken for x-rays, I had so many different people poking me, asking questions, just in and out. Eventually, a higher ranking doctor came in and quickly gave me the low down of what would be happening. I would be put under as they had to put a bone back in place. The rest would follow the next day.
I fractured my fibula, dislocated my tibia to the point of breaking through my skin (the bone I initially saw), and tore a ligament in between. The pain Sunday and Monday was pretty crazy but managed to where I could sleep a bit. To stay the night at a hospital was a new experience, and the admiration I now have for nurses. Bless them.
The following day, I saw some X-rays and a doctor from the surgical team said out of 10 this was a 9 or a 10 fracture. I was going to need surgery that involved plates and screws. I was added to the board for that Monday, but I didn’t have an exact time of surgery. When the time finally came, I was freaked out. Vulnerable.
But four hours later, I was awake and heading back to my room. The outpouring support from my family and friends made this experience easier. Making me extremely grateful for them and a reality check for those that truly matter in my life. But the love for my boyfriend, who did not leave my side through this, grew exponentially. I could not have a more caring and thoughtful partner at my side.
Life at the hospital is short lived and soon it will be just you to take care of yourself. The care and comfort in middle of the night will no longer be there. And it’s crazy to think that amidst the haziness from the drugs, I had to listen to instructions on how to care for myself once I left. Thank god, that wasn’t the case, I had Matthew who was fully capable and aware to take notes on how to help.
I was taught how to use crutches and how to go up and down staircases with them. I was told absolutely no weight on my left foot. I was released mid day Tuesday for two nights, three days total in the hospital. Excited to finally go home to shower and see my kitty.
My parents flew out to Portland on Thursday to spend the weekend with me. Not the conditions I wanted for their first time visiting me, but it was so nice to have them around. My mom could not help herself but spoil us with groceries and stuff for the apartment.
I missed three days of work, and on Thursday I decided I needed to call and check-in with the office. I ended up clocking in for a bit to catch up after that. I was out of the office for about two weeks, with the soft wrapping and pain level I was just not really mobile, but I still made myself available to help from home the following week.
It wasn’t until my two week follow up that truly made the recovery point real for me. The damage of what was underneath was finally revealed. I was not ready for it, the trauma surfaced again. It was now a physical and mental healing that needed to happen.
Read Part III here.
Jane Theory 
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