I have been in a ambulance twice in my life time.....once in
1980 and once last night. I don't have fond memories of the first one and I suspect
that the one last night will not be high on my list of favourite things to
remember.
I got up to go to the bathroom around 2:00 AM - I somehow
missed the entrance to the bathroom door and ended up falling down the stairs
that lead to my front door . I landed on my back. I knew right away that I was
in serious trouble. After laying there for a while cursing and swearing I
crawled up the stairs and into the
bathroom (I still needed to pee. It is
fortunate that the toilet bowl is quite low. Peeing while on ones knees can be
quite tricky). I continued my trip to the bedroom and managed to get onto the
bed. I laid there for a while, swearing at my stupidly, the pain and all of the
Gods. After 45 minutes of being unable to find a comfortable position, I decided that I needed help. I manoeuvred myself around on the bed so that I could reach
the telephone on the floor. Every time I moved, my back spasmed, sweat oozed out of every pore and I
had to gasp for breath. It took an extraordinary amount of time to move my head
from top of the bed to the foot. I finally got into a position where I could
snag the phone. I dialled 911.
The phone didn't work but without my glasses I couldn't read
the message on the screen as to why. I reversed the manoeuvring process to get
my glasses on the night stand, tried dialling again and found out that the
phone couldn't find the base station. After some more cursing, I gently
slithered put of the bed - crawled to the dining room, got the other phone, dialled
911 and asked for the ambulance.
The two young attendants were really nice, professional,
caring and quite willing to go along with and even participate in my inane
humour. Because the stairs are so steep they requested additional muscle power from
the fire department. I was, after some discomfort (that is medical terminology
for it hurt like hell) strapped into a half backboard and then placed in some
sort of a wheelchair. They placed my
wallet, a pair of pants and a t-shirt at the bottom of the chair. The trip down
the stairs was not fun. They were careful as they could be but every bump hurt. At the bottom of the stairs they transferred
me onto a stretcher/gurney and away we
went.
It didn't seem that it was that busy at emergency but it did
take a while for the doctor to see me. To
make a long story short, after 3-4 X-rays, it was decided that while I may have
done some damage to my back muscles etc., nothing was broken and I could/should
go home. No one asked me what I thought of that plan. I think I would have benefited
from a few hours rest. Getting dressed was a challenge and I had a sense that
the nurse assisting me thought I was a bit of a wimp for not moving faster or
perhaps jumping up and walking the first time I tried to sit up.
When I asked for it, no one could find my wallet. I hung
around trying to get someone to call the ambulance dispatch. When finally a
nurse talked to the dispatch supervisor - the answer was - "sorry - we
have looked but we can't find it".
I had to walk home as I had no money for a taxi. Fortunately it is normally only
a 15 minute walk. Besides the Percocet had started to do its magic.
This afternoon I have (along with my landlady) checked
around the stairs and driveway for the wallet but we can't find it. I guess I
am going to have to cancel my cards and get a new licence, health card etc. Most
of which will not happen before I go out west - if I can go at all.
I have no sense of how badly hurt my back is. Right now, in
spite of the Percocet and some other stuff that is supposed to reduce inflammation
- I am still a bit uncomfortable (there is that word again). I suspect that by
tomorrow I will have stiffened up and will feel worse, but hopefully from that
point on it will gradually feel better. The question is not only will I be well
enough to travel but will I feel up to getting ready?
Sometimes life sucks.
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