In a Split Second Or....Now What??

Nov 1, 2024

It was Saturday morning, May 4th, around 10am and I was excited about getting outside. An absolutely beautiful Vermont day. Spring had sprung and I was anxious to get all of winter cleaned out of my garage, check out my yard and enjoy the green.

I had already removed the snow plow off my Kubota ( my Special K) a few weeks before so I loaded up the back with firewood that was still in the garage. I drove it behind the little guest house and near the garden shed, dumping it all in front of the wooden racks where I would restack it for the summer.

Hmmmmm. One of the racks was coming apart. I needed a hammer. I popped into the shed and grabbed one. Focused on my mission, I trotted over toward the wood rack, but, before I knew it, in a split second, I was down. No oops, no trying to catch myself, no sense of falling....nothing. I don't remember the falling, just the landing. Up one second, down the next.

At that moment, I heard a crack. I did not have a stick in my hand. The horror of what just happened hit me. That was the sound of my leg breaking. I looked at my left leg, bent at the knee, laying on top of my right leg, also bent at the knee. I noticed my left foot was a bit cockeyed but not too bad. My fear at that moment was that I might have a compound fracture - you know - bone breaking through the skin. Thank God ! no compound fracture. I know I howled for a minute or so, if only from the sheer reality of my situation. I don't recall any pain.

Now what!? I needed help. I couldn't stand up much less walk, obviously, so now what? I rarely have my cell phone with me when working in my yard, something I know my son will be sure to point out. But my outside time is me time, to decompress, to meditate, to be grounded. So, no to a phone and who knows if there's even cell service in that spot. Can't just sit there. I started calling out for my neighbor, Tom, who lives across the road. I assumed my voice would reach him. A few minutes of that - no Tom. Now what??

I just so happened to have pulled my car out of the garage earlier that morning and parked it a few yards from where I fell, between the shed and guest house with my Special K parked behind it. How to get to my car was my next problem. With my broken leg laying on top of my good leg (thank you God) I was able to scooch and slide, carefully, on that right leg and my butt to my car. Somehow I was able to reach up, open that car door, start honking the horn and calling for Tom. No Tom.....he must not be there.... Now What??

I looked toward my house, a mere 140 feet away, down a large slope full of flowers, plants, rocks and things, and yes, I measured it before I wrote this. My cell phone was in the house, downstairs in the kitchen, plugged in to charge. Now I just had to get there. Can't stand up. Can't walk. Can't crawl either. Scooch it is, so off I went, slowly, carefully, inching my way, careful not to move that left leg. I clearly broke a bone so any movement at all would move bones. Yikes.

Across the small yard in front of the guest house I went down the slope to a stone walkway that still had small gravel on it from the winter months. Sweeping away what I could with my hands and not agonizing over having to scooch on top of it, I kept going. Somehow I was able to reach up without much leg movement and open my storm door then my front door. Now I just had to get over the 4 inch high threshold and into the house. There was a rug there too that I knew was not going to be scooch-able. I can't even tell you how I got over that threshold but I did. I grabbed the rug and moved it out of the way. I needed smooth tile to glide over.

Wow, I'm inside. Thank you God. I did a lot of Thanking God by the way.....I slid over to my phone. Calling 911 the first question asked was for the location of my emergency. I gave my Shaftsbury Hollow address although I now worried about my new 911 address that the state required the town to assign my driveway. That's another story for sure but not for today. Thankfully, the 911 guy saw both addresses. I gave him a few more directions and told him my front door was open. No pets. Another thank God moment for me. I lost my dear Ginger dog several years ago and I was relieved she was not there for this. There is no way she would have been ok with anyone walking in that door, much less messing around with me. No kitty to worry about either.

While laying there waiting for the ambulance, I called both my closest neighbors, Tom and Tracey. Both not home so I left messages, telling Tom that if he noticed an ambulance coming up my driveway, it was coming for me. I called my brother Ed, who had just arrived in Oregon the day before, not that he could do anything but I kinda thought he should know.

Anyway.....no answer .... So I left a message. Ed replied soon after and I made light of the matter as best I could, telling him not to reach out to my son just yet. My son being in Texas didn't need to worry until it was time to worry, if at all.

My neighbor, Tracey, called me back and I arranged for her to come over and lock things up for me. I told her I would call when I needed a ride home from the hospital, hopefully that afternoon.

EMT's arrived about 40 minutes later. They assessed my situation and proceeded to do whatever it is they do to get me into that ambulance. A young EMT guy was attempting to stabilize my left leg with a splint of sorts. That was about the time I told the young woman checking my blood pressure and all, that I tend to get a bit shocky. I was getting dizzy and told her so. I then looked up at her and asked if my face had lost all its blood and she said "oh yes, in fact you scared me, as your blood pressure dropped." By then they were all set to roll me out to the ambulance. As they did so, Tom walked up to see what all the excitement was about. He closed my car door for me and later put my Special K back in the garage. I have great neighbors.

Onward we went toward the hospital with my EMT gal sitting in the back with me. She told me that she had called emergency services in Cambridge to ask that one of their EMT's meet us at the country store in North Bennington. My two EMTs were not qualified yet to administer pain meds so had to call for someone that was. They were concerned about moving me from the ambulance to the hospital which I didn't quite understand at the moment. I wasn't in any pain.

Picking up our new EMT gal at the store, she rode along with us, trying in vain to find a vein in my arm. I have tiny, slippery ones. No luck so she had to give me a Fentanyl shot in my arm. I asked that she just give me enough to take the edge off but quite frankly I didn't feel any difference. I heard my gal speaking, I think, to someone at the hospital, telling them that at some point I had become unresponsive for several minutes. Hmmmm. I then realized that I must have passed out and was why she said I had scared her when my blood pressure dropped. Is also why I did not recall that splent being placed on my leg or how I got on that gurney. At least passing out allowed me not to feel what all that movement would have felt like! It's also why they wanted pain meds in me as they were concerned I'd pass out again when they moved me to another gurney.

Arriving at our destination I was moved with much care and professionalism so no crashing or passing out. Yea. And no pain. Into the new Emergency Department, past the main hub and down the hall around the corner to my very own room, Number 12. When I say ‘my own room', I mean quite literally. No curtain separating me from the rest of the department. A full on, glass, sliding door that was operated automatically and took up the whole wall. Had my own bathroom too.

Once there, the fun began. Many people in and out. Nurses, doctors and everyone in between. Asked several times what my level of pain was. Maybe a 2, I suppose. They are all surprised. Hey, I'm not complaining.

Wheeled me out for XRays. Wow, I really did a job on my poor leg. I asked for a copy so they printed them out for me. You know, a souvenir. My new orthopedic surgeon comes in, Dr Veltre. Nice guy.....proceeds to explain my situation, shows me what all I broke. Tibia in two - I heard that crack - fibula shattered and ankle bone broken. Nice job Kathy! He wants to do surgery that afternoon. Says they are getting the OR ready and he has everyone he needs there at the hospital. Not that there's a choice so ok. He then tells me what all he will be doing to fix things. Rod in the leg by way of behind my knee. He shows me where he'll make that cut. Screws, in various places. I asked him if TSA was going to have an issue with all that metal and he smiled and said no - it's all titanium. That's a relief.

He then tells me I should expect to stay in the hospital for several days as well as several days in a rehab facility. That's not a relief. Then tells me that I won't be able to put weight on that left leg for six weeks. Great. He asks me when and what I had eaten that day. Just a small breakfast around 9 I think. That's good. Got asked that several times before my surgery. Any later and they might have had to wait till the next day.

So now we wait. Wait for everything in the OR to get set up and ready for me. Anesthesiologist to meet with me and explain his role. Another doctor came in at some point to ask me the hard questions. The ‘what if's'. I have my health care instructions filed at the hospital which includes a DNR - do not resuscitate. She wanted to know how serious I was about that. I explained that if I were to stroke out on that table and I was likely to be seriously injured that I did not want to be hooked up to all kinds of apparatuses to simply keep me alive. We settled on a compromise.

More waiting but was not unpleasant. I was out of my garden clothes and shoes of course and into a hospital gown, warm blanket on top. All I had with me was my cell phone so did a bit of texting. Had to assure my son, Andrew, that I swore my brother Ed to secrecy and to not to tell him about my accident. I was to do that when I knew more so he wouldn't worry.

Much activity later and around 4 o'clock, it's Go Time. A smooth ride into what must be a new operating room. Lights, equipment, people everywhere. A heavier than usual oxygen mask is placed over my nose and mouth. Breath deep a voice said to me. I take one breath then two....

My next memory is not of waking up in recovery but of being wheeled into my room. Not a private room, yet I'm alone and by the window. I'm hooked up to an IV with what I find out is mainly antibiotics, but no saline nor pain meds. Several nurses in and out helped me get situated. There's a heavy cast from the bottom of my knee to my toes with ace bandages up and over my knee. I swear that thing weighs 20 pounds. We'll be together for the next 14 days.

Into the evening I'm awake every few hours between the nurses coming in and out and my own typical need to pee.

Later in the morning both a physical and occupational therapist came in to assess my situation and decide what and where I might need to go. They told me that my nurses said I did terrific through the night so depending on how well I did with them, they may actually let me go home that afternoon. I said, great, let's get going as I'm going home today.

First thing they wanted to know was my living situation. I live alone in a one bedroom, two story house - bedroom up, bathroom down. Could I get a bed downstairs, they asked. No. So how was I going to manage those stairs?? I told them I intended to scooch up and down those stairs. Now mind you, I'm hauling around a 20 pound cast on a leg I am not to put any weight on for the next six weeks. A walker is my only means of travel which involves upper body strength to lift myself up then hop forward a step. One...step...at...a...time. Next thing I know they are walking me down the hall to the stairwell where I have to show them what I would do. Up I went then down. Passed the test. Great. They told me I shouldn't be driving and with a bit more instruction and assurances from me that I had friends and neighbors who could help me out, they released me to go home. I promptly texted my neighbor and let her know when to come get me.

Home never felt so good yet posed challenges I've never faced before. Now what? We stopped by a friend's house to pick up a second walker to go along with my very own, new one I got at the hospital. Many times I have watched elderly ladies slowly getting around with their walkers and my first thought is always, ‘that will not be me!' Now I have two. Damn it.

Tracey and I figured out what to move around and set up so I could manage by myself. It's slow going with a walker, especially when you can only use one leg and the other leg is hauling around a 20 pound cast. Ok, it probably only weighs 8 pounds but it's darn heavy. Anyway, Tracey moved one of my dining room chairs upstairs and by the stairwell so that I had something to pull myself onto after scooching up 13 steps. One walker now upstairs, one down. We worked out how I was going to be able to shower - no bathtub thank goodness but a step up to get in. At least I had one of those hand held shower thingies. We worked out the details and Tracey stuck around while I took a much needed, much appreciated shower.

Alone at last, I assessed my situation. What I don't want is a lot of help. At least for anything I can do myself, and I have to be able to do things by myself. I emailed the group at the office and let them know how I was doing and that there was no need for a food train or visits. I did mention that I could use some rides to my doctor and PT appointments. I sent out the dates and times and by the end of the day, had a ride to each. A grocery run or two as well and I was all set.

I proceeded to set up things around me to make the next few weeks and months as easy and efficient as possible. My little area where I sit watching TV is a table that I placed items within reach. Books, magazines, pens, pencils, paper, kleenex, blanket, a stool to keep my leg up. You get the picture.

Now what? I felt a bit pathetic. My life had slowed to a crawl. Comments I've gotten throughout this process were that I must be going stir crazy, knowing my typical activity level, but what happened, especially with this kind of trauma, is that my mind and body had shut that activity down. I no longer felt the energy to get up and move around or the need to do stuff. My body and mind, instead, moved slowly and rested often. The energy I did have was used to get myself up and down my stairs, into the shower every other day, getting something to eat and bringing it to my ‘go to' spot in the living room. Then simply sitting and taking it easy. Sometimes I'd even fall asleep and take a short nap in my chair.

Two weeks later Vicki picked me up, maneuvering my walker into the back seat while I managed to maneuver myself and that 20 pound cast onto the front seat of her car. Off we went. Oh how good it felt to get outside and drive down the road. At my surgeon's office, the first thing on the list was getting that darn cast off!! Yippie!! I even helped the nurse out when she had a hard time getting that last piece off my foot. Whew. What a relief. I was patient while she carefully snipped out the stitches from eight incisions - entry points I call them, from my leg, ankle and knee. My leg was quite beautiful. All different colors - knee to toes - swelling not too bad but obvious compared to my right leg which now looked quite skinny.

Next up...XRays. I suggested they wheel me to the XRay room or we'd be there all day with my slow walker walk down the hall. Wheelchair arrived and off we went. Two angles shot and I was handed the print outs. Nice. Back to my room for a short wait till I see Dr. V again, without the backdrop of an emergency room.

Examining his work and my leg we talked about what was next and what was going on within that leg. I always have lots of questions and Dr. V answered all of them. What's that incision for? What is that weird brown color mid calf? Not sure....I - think it's bone marrow. Pain? No. Are you sure you didn't leave a sponge in there by my knee cap? He assures me there's no sponge in there then proceeds to explain to me what is the most important range of motion I need to achieve which involves my ankle and foot. I'd already been working on moving my toes, bending my knee and massaging that sponge, I mean scar, just above the cast. We look over the X Rays and I ask about that rod and the 5 screws. Are those screws the self screwing kind or did you need to drill a hole first. Hole first. Any chance they could come loose? Not likely.

Dr. V tells me physical therapy is next and I will be given the info to call and have those appointments set up. See you in another four weeks, he says, and off he goes. Nurse comes back in and gently wraps my leg with one of those walking boots. After that 20 pound, hard cast, it felt like she was wrapping my leg in a warm blanket. Can't walk on it still but who cares. I get up with my walker in place and off I go, at a snail's pace, calling Vicki to come get me. I wait outside in the sunshine.

My injuries slowly healed and within those first six weeks where I could not put any weight on that leg, I spent my days sitting or laying down. The time I spent moving around, doing the things I needed to do to eat, dress, clean, sleep, were well planned out and negotiated. I made a point to do normal things, to keep to a daily routine, making my bed, getting dressed, fixing and eating meals. I may have been down but I wasn't out and I fit my injury and situation into my routine and not the other way around.

Moving about was agonizing. Not in a painful sort of way but in time and energy. To get anywhere on a walker, on one leg ain't easy. First, I had to get up out of my chair or bed using my right leg only, to stand up. Can't lean on the walker or I risked pushing it over. Once I'm standing I could grab ahold of the walker and hold myself up. Now I had to move forward. Balancing on that one good leg, I lifted the walker up a bit and moved it about a foot in front of me, then set it down. Next I had to hop forward, one foot, on that right leg. Now, do it again. Repeat. Again and again and again. Took fricken forever to get anywhere, thus....I didn't move around much. Walked out in my yard once or twice but it was just too hard and tiring. My body and my situation made sure that I slooooowwed way down and I was ok with that. I was surprisingly ok with that. No anxiousness about not getting up and getting things done or going places. Just rest. Just - Stillness. Silence. Peace.

PTSD, another symptom I recognized in all of this. The need to replay in my mind, over and over again what I had just been through. The need to talk about what happened, perhaps to ‘get it out', I don't know. From the moment I heard that crack till right now and with no shortage of friends and family wanting to know how I broke my leg, how I got to the house, how was it I wasn't in any pain, made for plenty of opportunities to ‘get it out'. They helped to give me that release and managed to stomach the before and after XRays I usually had in my tote bag. Thankfully, I've moved past most of this and feel that my mind, body and emotions are healing as well.

Now what?? You guessed it. Physical Therapy ! PT ! The PT office called and set me up with six weeks of appointments. Two a week. Two PT guys, Mark and Jason, switching off those days. Couldn't get me in for several weeks so my first appointment was June 5th. Four and a half weeks from my accident and a week before I would be, hopefully, allowed to start putting weight on that left leg.

Not much PT guys could do for me until then so we practiced range of motion exercises which I had already started, knowing what was expected and they were both impressed by how far along I was already. Can't wait for them, now can I? One of my issues though was the tightness of my achilles tendon so Jason gave that tendon a good, hard massage. Next appointment three days later, that's what I had - a tendon massage. At some point, Jason asked if I was doing ok and all I could manage was to assure him that I have had much more relaxing messages than what he was giving me. Yikes. But - it did help quite a bit.

I was surprised when Jason asked me how I was doing with driving. I told him I hadn't been driving as I was advised not to. He shared with me how others had managed that walker, getting it in and out of the car and actually driving. Huh...guess who practiced that weekend ! The following Monday I drove myself to PT. Next day, drove to the office to work a bit.

Four days later I'm at my six week appointment with Doctor V. More X Rays and he shows me how my bones are healing. I always have questions, of course, and he pulls up the CT scan which is much clearer than the X Rays and shows me the complete break of the bone in my ankle. Ahhhhh....that's what that long screw is attached to. I ask if I had any loose screws and he hesitates before he realizes I'm joking. Much to my delight, he gives me the OK to put full weight on my leg. Still using the boot for support and structure but yippee.... Out I went to my car, taking that walker with me but walking on both feet. An absolutely amazing feeling. PT after lunch that day and to begin the real work involved to get me walking normally again.

Six weeks, twice a week, I make it to physical therapy. Each time, as soon as I'm led into the workout room, I'm asked how I'm doing, then, pointing toward the other side of that room, I'm told to walk. I walk. He watches. I walk back. He watches. I mention that I think I'm limping, as I limb back. "Why are you limping?", asks Mark, my PT guy for the day. "I don't know. Why am I limping? Tell me why I'm limping and show me how not to limp."

After examining my ankle, Mark wondered out loud why my surgeon hadn't put me in an ankle brace rather than the boot. What?? There's an option?? Huh. Later I'm on the phone with the doctor's office speaking to a nurse. Please ask Dr. V if I can have an ankle brace rather than this boot. Boot makes it hard to walk properly and is uncomfortable. She takes note and tells me she will get back to me with an answer.

Mark puts me through the paces which now includes a warm up, then all kinds of interesting and challenging exercises, from balancing to strengthening. It feels good to stretch those muscles. One in particular he has me walking on a treadmill with only my left leg engaged, right foot on the side. A very exaggerated walk he describes for me to do. Heal toe, heal toe. I'm having to retrain my brain to engage with my foot and leg again after six weeks of no activity. My brain needs to see that my leg is back in action and needs to walk. I'm relearning how to walk properly. Without limping. Heal toe, heal toe. Very specific. It takes concentration with each step. Do It !

I leave with determination.

Three days later I'm back at PT, this time with Jason. Walk, he says and I head across the room and back. Now walk with each leg straight out, then a march, then all manners of walking. Not as easy as it sounds. I falter and am surprised and disappointed at my lack of balance.

He asks me about my request for the ankle brace as he can see Dr. V's notes. Did I hear back? No. Well, apparently the answer was yes and was noted in my records. Jason shows me on his computer what kind of brace I should buy and where to buy one.

My half hour is over and I head right to The Pharmacy and a very helpful employee shows me the ankle braces and suggests one to buy. I make my purchase and head home, anxious to put that thing on. Once home, I take off that boot for the last time. Reading the directions, I manage to put that brace on. Then, I stood up. Oh my God! Any discomfort I might have experienced standing on that leg was gone. I could feel the structure and compression on my ankle and it felt amazing. I walk around the house, excited and relieved. I practice - heal toe, heal toe.

A few days later I'm back at PT, Jason now my guy for the next few weeks, refers to me as his impatient patient. I tell him it's just persistent determination. I remind him at times that if I'm going to live to be 93 (don't ask me why that number, I have no clue), then I have to be able to walk. Without a walker. Show me what to do. He puts me through the passes, ramping up the difficulty and watching carefully as I attempt each one. When can I start my morning walks? I can't wait to mow my lawn. Maybe this weekend. Jason and Mark don't want me walking around my yard. Telling me it's too uneven but I don't care, my summer is slipping away and it's short enough as it is. I need to be out there soaking it up. I head back to my car, no walker in sight. Heal toe, heal toe.

And yes, I mowed my lawn. Felt great. Looked even better. I love mowing and working in my yard. I don't really know what I'm doing but love doing it. Talking out loud, I walked that exaggerated walk all around my yard, pushing my lawn mower. Moving my muscles, soaking in the sun, feeling the warm breeze against my skin. Pure heaven. I'm happy. I'm grateful. Can't wait to tell my PT guys.

Well.... it's time - it's time to face my fall. I walk over to where it all happened, avoiding the direction from which I fell. It's overgrown and is likely the reason I fell as I could not see where I was stepping. It's only a short, slight slope but enough to make me fall. I study that area. I try to figure out the exact location of where I landed and looking toward my house, wondered how I managed to get there.

Out of the garden shed I gather my tools and get to work. On my hands and knees, pulling weeds, clearing out and stacking rocks over places and things I want to mark that I'm likely to trip over. Small tree stumps mostly. I plant some ground cover along the slope to eventually make it an area I'm not likely to walk over. It's still hard to walk toward that spot. I take tall reflectors I use in the winter to mark spots I don't want to hit with my plow and mark areas I now don't want to trip or fall over. I find myself paying much more attention to how and where I walk. Makes me feel older if not old. I'm not scared, just nervous. I can't live in fear.

My goal was always to stay out of the hospital and the morgue. Well, at least the morgue. I've blown the other goal all to pieces. Now what??

The rest of my weeks and now months, I continue to improve. Both my PT guys and surgeon have discharged me from their care, broke up with me, as I met all the goals on the list. I wrote them all a sincere thank you note and popped them in the mail. I even bought, with the insistence from others, my ‘I've fallen and I can't get up watch'. You know, the Apple watch, not that LifeLine thingy.

Now walking three miles five to six mornings a week feels fabulous. I've added a few more exercises along with specific ones for balance. Every day I'm a tiny bit better. Every day my leg and ankle heals. Every day I'm amazed at how our bodies can do just that.

I did not realize until much later how much my life had changed. Not just in the moment but from then on. My path had veered in a whole different direction in which I had been heading. My mind, my body, my focus, plans and priorities had changed, evolved, moved in such a way that I almost didn't realize nor recognize it...until I did. This injury, this accident, this event had literally changed my life. I don't recommend it, by the way, but it worked for me.

As I look forward to my years ahead, I know it's up to me to continue on my journey to stay healthy. To keep myself standing, walking, breathing. To keep moving.

Don't stop moving .... Don't ever stop moving.

Author: Kathy Sollien
Windmill