« Tribal Earth Summer Camp | Main | Preparing For Africa »
November 14, 2006
I Inspect The British Health Service
Tim with Pestalozzi students at Bodiam Castle
September 3rd. The day started out innocently enough. I was driving the Pestalozzi minibus, on a trip taking the newly-arrived first-year students to nearby Bodiam Castle, built in 1385 by Sir Edward Dalyngrigge, a royal councillor and veteran of the wars with France. Although now a ruin, is one of the most celebrated castles in England, and an excellent introduction to English history for the students.
That's me in the hat
Out of nowhere, disaster struck. I was climbing one of the spiral staircases when somehow my foot slipped sideways, I fell down a few stairs, and stopped with an agonising pain that told me something was seriously wrong in my right ankle. A break for certain, and a break like no other I'd had in the past. No bones sticking through the side of my leg, though it felt as if there should be. I was helped to the ground floor, and an ambulance was called. They arrived with anaesthetic gas, and plenty of morphine that kept me in a dazed stupor all the way to the Conquest Hospital in Hastings. Those guys were the best: so professional, so competent, so calming.
The ambulance arrives
At the Casualty Department, an X-ray confirmed the worst: both bones in my ankle broken, one in a number of places. I was speedily admitted on to a ward, then after a short time whilst others examined my X-rays, I went back to Casualty to have my bones re-positioned. Thankfully, I was knocked out before this was done, as even moving my leg a centimetre caused the greatest of pain. The next day was spent waiting for a surgeon who could operate on me. The nurses were very nice, and everyone treated me very well. Pain relief was available, though not the morphine that really made a difference. The alternatives took the edge off, though never took it away. It was to continue like that for the next month and a half, during which time I discovered how powerful the right attitude of mind can be when dealing with, and subsequently ignoring, pain. The broken nights were the greatest nuisance, but anything is worth putting up with when you are slowly improving.
The stretcher is wheeled out
But I'm getting ahead of myself. After two days, a surgeon was avaliable, and late in the evening she operated to fit a 5 inch long metal plate and 14 screws to hold the bits of my bones in place whilst they healed. My leg was placed in a cast: not plaster any more, but fibre-glass, which was much lighter, though still just as itchy! I spent a few more days in hospital whilst my progress was monitored, then provided with a pair of crutches, and sent back to Pestalozzi.
And here comes the anaesthetic gas
A driver who can't drive!! What use is that? So many places would have told me to leave, but at Pestalozzi, that did not happen. They found me a new room on the ground floor, and everyone helped to make sure I was fed, watered and comfortable. The students, especially, just couldn't do enough for me, and would carry my plate, do my washing up and help to keep me cheerful. I found that there *were* things I could do after all: office work, website additions, and a place on reception in the afternoons, where I was taught to use the switchboard, answer the calls, and deal with visitors. Whilst waiting for calls, I helped catalouge the resources for the PIDEC department.
I am wheeled back to the ambulance
After 2 weeks, I went back to the hospital to have the 40 or so stiches taken out of my ankle. There are scars on both sides, so at least I will be able to prove why the metal-detectors at the airports will keep going off!! Some fun for the future, I think. The cast came off to take the stitches out, of course, and then a new one was put back on. Two more weeks, and I was back again for an X-ray and a new cast, the third. My leg had shrunk, and the second one was too loose now. All was well, despite the constant pain. I though that there were problems with the healing process, but no: all was well, and I was just experiencing what everyone else does in my situation. A few weeks more, and at last came the moment I'd been waiting for: the cast came off for good.
Thanks to Marko Mercado for the photos
The foot was still rather painful. It swelled up a lot after the cast came off - the doctor said that it might, but still it was surprising. Tubigrip helped a lot with that, though I was careful to take it off at night. I tried to stand on both legs, but that just wasn't possible: it was still far too painful, and I realised that much rest was needed for the next few days. I am *allowed* to put weight on it, but all the muscles etc. have locked up during their inactivity, and need easing out again gradually. They were also cut into during the operation, and need to grow back normally. I still have to use the crutches all the time: this is a bit of a disappointment as I had hoped to be able to walk a little, but I am told this is normal. I keep my leg raised up as much as possible, usually on a pillow on top of the desk, which raises eyes in reception until the visitors notice the cast and the crutches propped nearby.
Tim in the Conquest Hospital, Hastings
It would be just over 2 months from the date I broke my ankle to the time when I was first able to put the full weight on both legs and takes some steps un-aided by crutches. Not many at first, but after so long, any felt like a huge achievement. I write this to lend support to anyone else who might be in a similar situation, and is wondering why it all takes so long, and when the pain will end. It does eventually, of course; it just takes time: much time.
For me, time was not something I had a lot of. I had the deadline of a trip to Africa to meet. With two weeks to go, I was still not walking unaided, and was just ready to write and say that I must back out of the first section of my trip, but something stopped me sending the email. The next morning, without really realising what I was doing, I took my first steps, and realised that all was possible after all. It was an emotional moment. Things improved quite quickly after that, with measured amounts of progress made each day. Exactly 2 months and 10 days after the accident, I spent the whole morning walking about without crutches, and only used them at luncheon time to aid me on the long climb up the hill to the dining hall. I guess I had better finish my packing, after all!
Posted by travellingtim at November 14, 2006 03:55 AM