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8:37PM - Tuesday November 18, 2003 See, I forget that I'm not twenty anymore, and that I shouldn't be quite so fearless in a mosh pit. I was happily jumping around, running into people, it was a happy bacchanalian frolic. And then I got slammed and knocked off balance--I caught myself, but my foot stayed stationary and the rest me had too much momentum and kept right on going. End result: one broken leg/ankle. Oh yes, I feel dumb. I had to be helped off the dance floor, CurveGirl called a cab, and Butch and CSB took me to the hospital. I had my hands over my face and my thumbs in my ears using a little bit of sensory deprivation to help me keep the pain manageable. If I kept the noises and bright lights at a minimum I could just breathe and could be pretty calm. CSB talked the whole way, trying to distract me and keep me amused, which was really sweet. The paramedic in triage was really nice, and was very gentle when she took off my boot. I don't remmeber a whole lot, I think we were there for a long time. I was concentrating mostly on not freaking out becasue I already figured my leg was broken seeing as how I couldn't stand back up on it when I fell down, and even with torn ligaments I walked from the bus stop to home. Butch wheeled me to the bathroom at one point, and then I got to go and have x-rays. I still had no good pain drugs and was feeling very sorry for myself, especially when they told me that my leg was broken. I think Krista the nurse felt really bad for me. After that I got her to wheel me to the bathroom again because, well, you know, rented beer. I finally got a bed and an IV, though they missed the vein on my hand and had to use my right elbow pit instead. Man, I'm all bruised up from that. CSB and Butch were allowed in to see me--Butch was falling asleep so she went and snagged a chair and had a nap. CSB continued with the hand-holding and the bantering and the comforting which was all very nice. Eventually, though, I had to make the poor man go tell a nurse that I had to pee. Again. I really wish I hadn't drunk quite so much beer. It turns out that I have a shy bladder when I have to pee in a bed pan. Who knew? I tried to be cheerful and friendly to the nurses because I've seen how the Boy gets in hospitals and it never got him good results. You catch more flies with honey, right? They were really good to me, and I chatted with them and the paramedics. Pat the paramedic was cool, he kept popping in to apologize for the wait--they were apparently very very busy. At one point he wandered in and was eating some red licorice nibs, adn I looked at them wistfully and asked if I could have some. He looked abshed, and then said I couldn't and that he shouldn't be eating them anyway. And that they were really good. And then I called him a bad bad man. Did I mention he was cute? All the paramedics and doctors were cute. There was Darren the senior orthopedic resident, and Dr. Smith who had dark hair, and Pat the big meanie. :) Darren actually hurt me quite a lot with his poking and prodding and twisting, and CSB said he'd beat him up for me, but I told him no and that he was just doing his job. They finally cmae through with the good drugs though, so that I slept through most of the putting on of the big heavy plaster cast. Except Darren hurt me a whole lot at one point and it made me yell, and Pat had to tell me to breathe. Pure oxygen really dries out your throat. Gack. Then I had more x-rays, and got told that the break was worse than they had initially thought and that I'd probably have to have surgery. Oh joy. That meant no food or drink until they phoned me later that day because I might very well have surgery in the afternoon. Did I mention that I live on the second floor of an apartment building with no elevator? Yeah. More fun and games. CSB wins the award for being the most helpful dude ever. He stayed up with me all night, kept me entertained, and still thinks I'm cool even if I hurt myself dancing. To be continued...
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