That Place

BACK BY POPULAR DEMAND:

This is an approximation, and only an approximation. I cannot be held accountable for its validity or accuracy due to the fact that I am about as doped up as a human can get without landing yourself straight in the rehab. To the best of my knowledge, this time frame is accurate as to the time of my accident to the time under the knife. The first cut. This timeline is important to me because it makes me realize that maybe I wasn't being such a panzy. Maybe I was right to feel sorry for myself for that brief second whilst I was screaming from someone to just go ahead and take my foot off. So here it is:

Alternative time units:

16 days, 7 hours, 5 minutes and 0 seconds can be converted to one of these units:
1,407,900 seconds
23,465 minutes
391 hours (rounded down)
2 weeks (rounded down)

I can tell you this- if you ever get hurt and have to wait out the surgery that will assuredly start you on the road to recovery, be strong and expect the worst. The worst gut wrenching pain you can imagine. It will come. Rest assured that between the time of injury and the time of surgery, there is a gray area. A zone of incomprehensible suffering that no human should endure. This "zone" is a place that I hope I never spend another second, much less 1,207,900 seconds. You find yourself contemplating everything....and I mean EVERYTHING. From the color of the butterfly that gracefully sits on the windowsill above your head. The little creature slowly flutters its wings and you swear you can feel the breeze emanating from its little world. The window that lets in that cool mountain breeze that you long to feel again. My little window to the other side consists of that breeze as well as the soft subtle sound of the river flowing behind our house. Soothing? Maybe? Torturous? At times. All the while you have to stay strong and keep your game face on. You know it isn't over. The games have just begun.

On the day of my surgery I was ready to go. I am not sure I could have taken another day of "recovery" while knowing that every day gone by would be another day that my bones had healed in a way that was not right. I knew my fall was bad and I had come to terms with the reality that I may never be the same, but I was ready to get on with whatever hand I would be dealt. Just give me that hand and let me work with it. Those last few days before surgery were INSANE. The pain was out of control. I had weaned myself off of the pain meds because the doctor said it would be best to not let my body build a tolerance to those little pills of joy. I am glad she gave me that advice. I would soon find out that the pre-surgery pain was just a precursor of greater things to come. Once I was there and in the pre op area, my anesthesiologist came in. The guy looked young enough to be my son. Turns out he is 31. He explained the benefits of the "Pain Block" as opposed to general anesthesia. I was sold. My exact words "hook a brutha up". Boy did he ever. After putting a little wonder juice into my IV, the proceeded to put this pain block in through the back of my leg. Just behind the knee. The very last memory that I had was of him hooking up the "little box" and setting the dial. It made my foot jump and twitch all over the place. That wasn't exactly the best note to go out on. It was a little weird seeing you foot flop around like fish out of water. Gasping for life....flopping..then slowly succumbing to reality. That would be the point where he found the right setting on his "box" for my nerve. That was all she wrote for three hours.

I had asked Dr. Furry if she would mind taking a couple of photos for my blog. She thought it would be okay so she held to her word and gave my camera to a couple of the OR nurses. As you can see, they did a great job of taking photos. This is one of my favorites. Right here on the left. If you have made it this far then you obviously have a strong stomach. This is half of my heel bone. When they told me I broke it "in half", they weren't kidding. The piece she is holding here was apparently still attached by a little piece. They had to pull it out to get in there and pull everything back together. They also had to pull my heel back DOWN into its anatomically correct position. Then they put it all back in there, added the plate and screws, sewed me back up and bhada bing...bhada boom. I am back on the road to recovery.

The one thing that I wasn't prepared for was the moment when that pain block wore off. All through the night they keep coming in to check on you. Give you meds (orally) and take vitals. The little subtle question that they kept asking was "how is your pain now"? Ha! It was awesome - I didn't even feel like I had a leg. They persisted. Knowing what was coming. Anticipating . Watching me ever so keenly...waiting. Then - at seven in the morning on Saturday it happened, the pain block wore off. I am not ashamed to admit it, I screamed. Holy Mary mother of God. What had they done. I actually had to sit up and see if they were doing surgery right then. I would have been happy to let them take my foot at that point. As long as it would end the pain. They kept trying the "oral" meds even when I was telling them (orally) that they weren't doing squat. My whole body convulsed in pain. I have NEVER felt something so intense. I thought I had seen the worst of it.

I believe (especially now) that our minds internalize certain things and are able to withstand some tremendous amounts of agony. I think my mind just went into self preservation mode. I withdrew into a place within myself that was safe. I place I had never been. This was a place of comfort, of selflessness, of reasoning. I knew that this was coming, or at least I thought I knew. I somehow feel that I know what it is like to be truly on "THE EDGE" of what your body can take. It makes me think of all the books of adventure and survival I have read. You just shut down and your mind takes over. It takes your soul to its little safe haven and leaves just enough for your body to progress. Ever so slightly, you come back. Sounds are intense, smells, light, you just feel.....awakened. It would be absurd to say it was a refreshing experience, but I can tell you that it is one I will never forget. My "limits" have been redefined and subsequently my boundaries have been pushed further than I ever thought possible. The doctors and hospital staff were amazing. They knew what was coming, and they did everything to lessen the punch. They fixed me as best they could. I walk (well in a few months anyway) away with some sweet blingage in my foot and a whole new respect for the human mind. I am grateful for the people who are able to help when things like this happen. What could you possibly say that would equate even the slightest gratitude that you feel? Most of all, I am grateful for the wife who has stood by me through all this. Was torn from her sleep by my moans and screams. Who was there to look me in the eye and say "it's gonna be okay". Seems I owe her a little vacation.

Finally, I am home after an extra day in the hospital. The pain is there, but I have been to that place. I have been there and I know that the pain won't win. I will win. I don't have it as bad as some. In fact - there are those that see this as a pretty minor injury. I do walk away with a healthy respect for those who have been to that place. Whos minds have taken over and taken them to a place of comfort during the most horrendous moments of pain and suffering. It is a brotherhood that I hope you never join. Should you find yourself there - just go with it. You have to endure and you will make it through. Now that I am fixed up.....let the healing begin. There are climbs waiting.

PS: I have no clue why there is a surgical latex glove on my foot. Surgeons just wanna have fun I would presume! Oh - and chics dig scars !!!