Tuesday, February 16, 2010

a hospital appointment... or two...


PART ONE


I'm not here... mentally speaking, of course...

I went to The Alfred Hospital for my orthopaedics appointment. NINE days after my accident. The doctors there were of the opinion that I needed surgery and more metal in my right leg. Bionic Woman, eat your heart out!

As I reside in the Dandenong Ranges, I begged the Alfred doctors to transfer me to Eastern Regional Health. I have a long history there and it's much closer to home. They agreed, wrote me a letter of referral and made an appointment for me today at 1.30 pm. More time off work! A necessary evil, I suppose...

Being me, I arrive early. I'm extremely paranoid about being late for anything - it makes me anxious.

I turn up to the Outpatients department, showing my letter of referral and informing them of my appointment. "I'm sorry, we have no record of such an appointment being made on your behalf," was the response I received.

I calmly explained my situation, trying to gain their empathy. Finally, it was suggested to me that I go to the Emergency Department at Box Hill and start all over again - but, it was going to be a long wait, was that ok?

Of course not! But, I am the mercy of the public health system, n'est ce pas?

Three hours later, I am called in for an X-ray. Apparently, the Alfred ALSO failed to pass on my films to Box Hill when they "organised" my appointment for me.

So, here I am, waiting...
Waiting for my name to be called as I watch the Emergency Department filling up fast with poor people who have far more pressing problems than my little broken ankle.

I look around, wondering what their problems are. Some look quite ill - their faces downcast. Some flinching and doubled over, in obvious pain.
I am grateful that I didn't have time to eat anything today. A man has just brought in a woman who is dry-retching loudly, but has nothing to throw up. A person with a weaker constitution and more easily disgusted, would have found themselves joining her in complete, nauseated harmony. Thankfully, she has been shuffled off to another room, where she cannot be heard by the "already-sick" mob in the waiting room.

So, here I sit... Too distracted by the noise around me to read my book about motorcycling through South America. I can never focus on my reading when I hear others conversing... even if they're simply discussing their junk food options at the vending machine in the cramped waiting room - or, as I like to call it, the purgatory of inexorable ennui.

I am running... exploring the world, imagining what my life could be like out on the open road of an unknown continent, discovering new people and cultures unfettered, emancipated... absolved of the every day banality of a 9-5 job, meeting the demands of a mortgage I'll finish paying by the time I'm 70... for the SECOND time, paying heed to what is expected of me rather than feeding my desires and being where I would rather be.

It is at this point that I am barely surprised by the song that I find is running through my head...
"I want to run, I want to hide...
I want to tear down the walls that hold me inside...
I want to reach out and touch the flame...
Where the streets have no name..."

A temporary interval...
It has been decided that I must be put back in plaster again.

I should explain... after I was put in plaster on the day of the accident at The Alfred, I went online and bought myself a "cam-walker" - a huge space-looking boot, with velcro straps, designed to brace one's leg/ankle in tightly, so no normal movement is possible, hence providing stability for healing. This cam-walker arrived at my doorstep approximately 4 days after I was put in plaster.

Until it did, I was naughty... I was weight-bearing on my ankle, walking around heaps, contrary to the strict instructions I received from the Emergency Department doctors at The Alfred. I was to use crutches, but guess what? My arms hurt heaps from my tumble in the tunnel! So much so, I found myself close to tears every time I tried using the damn things. So, since my ankle merely ached a little, and the crutches were giving me true pain, I decided to ignore the advice of the doctors. I beared weight on my broken ankle, I threw the crutches back in the laundry room to gather dust again like they had for the last 9 years, I hobbled around the house taking a heap of painkillers and enjoying the freedom of using my legs as normally as possible as one can while still wearing a plaster cast.

So, when the cam-walker arrived, I eyed it eagerly, excited by the prospect of further liberation. I cut off my plaster and shuffled off at a snail's pace to my first shower in days WITHOUT wrapping my leg in plastic bags and medical tape. After experiencing the relief of being able to lather up my ENTIRE body again, I dried myself and went to bed... what sweet dreams I had that night!

The next morning, I put it on for the first time. I lasted all of two minutes. The fucking thing hurt! It wasn't plaster - it was worse! A human being designed this shackle for rehabilitation???
I pulled it off in disgust. Shit, I showered without plaster, without this ugly boot... I didn't feel much more than a little ache... Bugger it... I found a pair of old lace-up boots, dusty, under my bed and strapped myself in.

My ankle hurt... but not too much more than usual. I suspected the pain I was tolerating was due more to soft tissue damage and swelling from the trauma than from my broken ankle.

But, back to my exciting hospital story...

The docs in the Box Hill Emergency Department just examined my new X-Rays. The general consensus is that because I have been weight-bearing when I shouldn't have been, I should be put back into plaster. Fuck!
They inform me that there's a good chance that I will have to be operated on soon - today, tomorrow, whenever... Fuck, fuck!
My car's parked outside! I drove myself to the hospital from work! Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Oh, and by the way... there's a pretty long waiting list at the moment... I might have to stay a week, or more! Quadruple fuck!

One has no life when one has entered the public health system. It doesn't matter that you had made plans to catch up with a dear friend, that you just wanted to go home, veg out, watch a movie and sleep. Apparently, it's ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY to stay overnight in an over-crowded hospital, listening to your immediate neighbours whine and complain about their ailments.

But, that's just it... I am in limbo. I DON'T KNOW if I'll have to stay overnight! I am waiting for a verdict, yet again!

"An orthopaedic doctor will be coming to see you shortly," they told me over an hour ago... followed by "Hang in there..."

AAARRRGGGHH! WHY THE FUCK WOULD I NEED TO "HANG IN THERE" LIKE A LITTLE TROOPER IF THE ORTHO WAS COMING TO SEE ME "SHORTLY"?????

My impatient nature is starting to take hold. I'm now enduring flashbacks to the many months I was bed-ridden by the "bad one" in 2001. I feel myself starting to transform into "Miss Melodrama". There is no tomorrow, just what feels like an eternity, waiting for a little attention and to be finally and absolutely told if I am coming or going. Fuck this...

Serenity now, serenity now... these are my internal George Costanza chants as I wait...

=======================================

PART TWO

That was my Friday night. I had an appointment at 1.30 pm... despite what I endured, I'm pleased to say that I ended up leaving for home that night at 7.00 pm.

What happened, you ask...
The orthopaedic doctor finally saw me at 6.30 pm.
He looked at my X-rays and asked me about my pain. I told him the truth... hardly any in my ankle, more aching and soreness. It didn't even feel broken like the last three times I have broken my ankles.
He smiled and said "Well, all I'm seeing here is an old break... you don't need surgery, why don't we take this plaster off before it dries?"
I could have kissed him!

I would have hopped, skipped and danced my way back to my car if the ache wasn't lingering and if I didn't end up looking like an absolute gimp to passers-by.

So, to more important matters...
I called Suzuki... my bike is not a write-off...
I have mixed emotions about that.

Part of me wanted to replace my beautiful black beast with a black Wee-Strom. I thought it'd be a more appropriate bike for the plans I have in mind. The other part of me couldn't bear the thought of letting my matte black baby be banished so soon to the scrap heap.

It seems as though I dented my fuel tank, broke my mirrors, twisted my pedals, and severely scratched my black pipes. Apparently, the engine is fine. "Fine" because I'm a girl? Time will tell....

So, my comprehensively "agreed value bike" will cost me $500 excess and will cost RACV $6500. Yay!

Parts are coming in from Japan - the 2008/2009 M50 model is quite different to the 2009/2010 model. This fact is obvious when merely looking at the two, side by side. As a result, parts for my older model are harder to get in Australia. Again, is that really the case, or is that just because I'm a girl? I'll probably never know....

Once the replacement parts arrive, they will be shipped again to Leongatha for the "blackening" process... Shit, might as well do it again... I'm not paying for most of it! :)

Now that I know I'm not broken, I'm feeling restless... I'm not ready yet, but I'm dying to ride...
Plus, I'm pissed off.
I cancelled my MS fund-raising ride and won't be leaving for the first Tasmanian leg of that journey on the 22nd of March...

My house has sold... again... and now I'm faced with an impending settlement in June and an indefinite move to Chile.

I hope and pray that I will be able to return to Australia again in Spring/Summer to complete that MS ride... again, time will tell...
If not, I will have to settle for trying my luck (prematurely) riding up and down the length of South America.

To sign off this post, I will leave with one thought...
As far as I'm concerned, I will be back riding within a couple of weeks...
I hope the marvellous weather that has appeared again these last two days revisits Melbourne with a vengeance when I get out there again!
Then, the thrilling and titilating blog posts you've all become accustomed to, will return.

Catch up again soon... ;)

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