Sunday the 31st Betts and I went to the skating rink. Had our new skates that were meant for action and finesse… was going to be fun. Turned out that the rink was way too slick for my wheels, so I just sat and watched Betts do her thing. He was having fun and getting her old skills back. It was also Family Night, and since I hadn’t skated for 40 years I didn’t want to risk getting whiped out by kids zooming around whilst getting used to breaking in professional skates. (I was expecting a wooden rink, not a polished paint slab type).
We were about to leave some I headed to the ladies room hittting apiece of pizza lating in some til.Up in the air I went landing on my left hip. Blinding pain ensued and I couldn’t stand up. Leg was fine but it was if there was no support for my body. I was wheelchaired to the car and we headed back to New Orleans and home.
Halfway across the River I told Betts to take me to Tulane’s ER. I had a bad feeling that something major was wrong. Two hours later the verdict was I: I had two breaks in my hip bone. Surgery went down in the morning .A plate and three screws were holding it all together just below the part of the femur that fits into the pelvic socket. They said all looked good and they helped me go back to sleep.
Sometime afterward they changed my medications, ones that I had told them my my body reacted badly to. When I woke up treatment continued, but the chages weren’t told to me. My body started going hatwire and my mind turned into mush. I looked healthy when I entered the place but was turning into a zombie. That’ when Betts stepped in and forced them to change the meds back to what was originally agreed upon. Two days later I started to get back to normal. What should have been a three day stay turned into an eight day Hell.
I missed the Mayoral elections, Missed the build-up to the Super Bowl, but did come around enough to what our Saints win the game. The next day Betts got me out of there when we learned they were thinking of shipping me to Houston for Rehab. In those last two days I learned to use a walker properly allby myself. Figured out how to do Life things differently in order to function. I got home last night tired, but relieved..
I missed all the fun and joy of what turned out to be three of the best days our city has had since the Flood just because someone over-rode my knowledge of my body and my history of medication use. I know things happened, but I was outside looking in. Physically I couldn’t have been a part of the fun, but I was also prevented from emotionally enjoying any of it. The former is understandable, the latter is unforgivable.
The body will heal in time. My mind will slowly come out of the fog s. The denial of the joy of it all will never heal.