Previously: I fell and hit my head on a steel post. My hip hit the cement porch next. I blacked out for more than twelve hours, awaking to find myself in a hospital sixty miles from home. A surgeon tells me I fractured my femur. He put in three very long pins to hold my bones together. I ask him how long it will take to mend.

Chapter 81 ends:

"A week" he said. "Then we have to find a nursing home with a rehab facility where you can stay for at least another week. A physical therapist will work with you each day. After that, we’ll send you home, but a therapist will come out three times a week for another month to teach you how to vacuum without risk and perform other household duties."

I groaned. So much time out of my life. I called Frank with the news. "I’ll be here for a week. You don’t have to visit. It’s such a long drive and all that traffic. I’ll be okay. I have a TV."

Frank came anyway, every day and stayed for a couple of hours.  Even though I was happy to see him, I said, "Next time this happens, just shoot me."

 

Don’t expect to be coddled by nurses when you’re suffering an injury that can be fixed. With a bathroom right in my private room, the bedpan disappeared first.

"It’s important that you start walking," a tall, skinny, middle-aged woman snapped. Ignoring my complaints of pain, she steered me onto the pot. "Holler when you’re through," she ordered, banging the door shut.

Three days passed before I dared to get up and go by myself. The pain I could handle, but not a nurse who was near the end of a twelve hour shift.

What I remember most about my experience:

1. Compression stockings from my knees to ankles.

2. Therapy walks down long corridors
       (The bubbly young mocha nurse chimed in when 
       I started singing "We’re off to see the Wizard, the
        wonderful Wizard of Oz.")

3. Climbing up and down a movable set of stairs.
        (The uninjured leg bears the most weight.)

4. One cheerful nurse on the night shift. Others I wanted to smack.

5. The traumatic MRI—my first one ever.
     I didn’t know I could hold still for forty minutes. 
    The straps on my head, chest, and arms probably
    helped. A special belt strap encircled my brain,
     the doctor’s  biggest concern. Did the fall cause
     any damage? Fortunately the answer was no.

Ironic that hospitals test for trauma using a huge circular tube that looks like a monster’s mouth. A table protruded, like an oblong tongue that would slide my supine body into the space that contained a magnet. Thoughtful staff provided a blanket and cushioned my neck.

"Are you comfortable?" a technician asked. I nodded.

Sure, I’m just about to be swallowed by a whale.

The ‘server’ covered my ears with a set of headphones.

Oh good, I thought, I can jam while I’m in this bubble. I had no idea the scanner made noises that would drown out even heavy metal music.

Inside the scanner I heard a fan and felt air moving. I was grateful for the blanket. Suddenly, snapping noises alerted me. Pictures were being taken. I knew it, I knew it. The hospital made money by selling to porno sites.

Well, okay. I didn’t think that, but non-stop sounds assaulted my ears for forty minutes. Imagine five talk shows vying for your attention. No music, just babble. Hey, was I hearing tongues? Could this be a religious experience? All I could visualize were pieces of aqua and peach colored gauze. Hello, Venus. Earth speaking here. Roger and over.

Over it was. I returned to my room and the tedium of waiting to get out of this place.

Seven days didn’t fly by. Frank’s visits helped, but he looked tired most of the time.  When the doctor gave the word that I was free to leave, I called hubby immediately.  "Don't come today.  I’ll call you as soon the hospital can relocate me to a rehab/nursing home. I should be out of here by noon."

As it turned out, it was midnight before a place could be found. When an ambulance finally came to take me to Oakhurst in Ocala, I thanked God, bowed to Mecca, and praised Allah. I wanted to cover all bases.  I hoped the worst was over.

To be continued.