And Then I Did This…

 We decided to renew our Disneyland annual passes because we could. They had already announced that they will no longer offer passes for next year, and we have really enjoyed ours. Besides, we had some extra required withdrawal funds from our retirement accounts available.

We really love the Disney parks, and we live within half an hour of the Anaheim resort. (Both of us were there during the first year when we were kids.) Last year, we made sure to go at least twice a month in order to justify the price. (They are OUTRAGEOUSLY expensive.)

Besides, whenever we go, we always put in 10,000 to 13,000 steps. Much more fun than going to the gym.

For the past year or so, I have also been walking the marina with my friend, Cathy a couple of times a week (about 3-1/2 miles to cover the whole thing). I have been enjoying these early morning walks. We talk, see people we know, and the time goes quickly. Sometimes Larry joins us.

On the 21^st of November, we made our usual trek to Disneyland. We were having a great time. We arrived at park opening and had already put in about 3-1/2 hours—and over 8,000 steps.

We had planned to see the new Lion King show in the Fantasyland Theater, eat lunch, and then head home. We took the train around to the Toontown station opposite the theater.

We started to get off. Larry went down the stairs first. (We have gotten on and off the train hundreds of times—literally.) I started to step down, and my foot slipped. I was still on the top on the floor of the car.

You need to understand that there are two different kinds of train cars. One has the seats facing the front. The stairs on those cars have handrails all the way to the bottom. The other cars have the seats facing the outside. These have no handrails. The floor of the car is about 3-1/2 to 4-feet off the platform.

Of course, we were on the latter kind of car.

I tried to catch the lower step as I felt my right foot slip. Didn’t make it.

My left foot landed hard on the cement platform at the bottom and folded under me. Then my head hit the ground. I heard it.

Fortunately, I never lost consciousness. I was certain I had done some damage to my left ankle right away. It hurt.

Being Disney, people swarmed around immediately. They actually emptied the train and stopped it from running until I was taken care of. Security was called and arrived quickly.

They asked if I wanted them to call an ambulance. Uh…no thanks.

A nurse with a wheelchair arrived and did an assessment. (My eyes were dilating and I was making sense—and joking.)

He and Larry got me into the chair. He had brought a couple of ice packs and put one on the ankle and another on my head. Then they pushed me to the infirmary. (Did you know they had one? Actually, I did.) We talked and joked all the way.

They said I should have a CAT scan since I hit my head, and even I recognized that I needed to have my ankle x-rayed.

I wanted to go to a hospital closer to home—just in case I might need to stay.

They sent Larry to get the car from the parking lot while the nurse (Tom) brought me fresh ice packs. I was actually pretty comfortable. A knot rose on the back of my head, and the ankle started to swell and hurt.

Larry drove the car to the special waiting area at the front of the park. He called me, and Tom pushed me out to the car. They helped me get in, and then we drove down to Mission Hospital. I knew (from having broken my wrist in 2019) that Urgent Care didn’t have a CAT scan machine, so the ER at the hospital made the most sense.

There was a wheelchair outside the ER, so Larry grabbed it to get me inside.

I was checked in fairly quickly. When they noted I was taking a blood thinner, they decided I should be seen in the trauma area. So, off we headed.

I was taken care of by two nurses. (Dale was one, and I never got the name of the other one.) Carrie took all my vitals. We talked about how I could easily remember her name since it is the same as my niece. (I said I always called her “Care Bear”, even though the stuffed ones came about a few years after she was born. Carrie at the hospital said she had been called the same thing.)

Then, I was taken to have the CAT scan. It wasn’t too bad—except getting on the table.

They brought me back to the trauma area and settled me in a bed. I was surprised when they brought in a portable x-ray machine to get the x-rays. I was also surprised when they took a chest x-ray as well as one of my pelvis before getting four different ones of the ankle.

Then we waited…and waited…and waited.

Three hours later, they told me they were having a problem with their blue-ray and wi-fi. They couldn’t send the x-rays to the orthopedist, but they were working on it. They said the files were in the machine, but they couldn’t transmit them.

I asked why they hadn’t pulled them off with a flash drive and taken them to the doctor, who was in the hospital. No one had an answer.

They finally brought in another machine. They took another chest x-ray and three more shots of my ankle. Then the technician (the same one who had taken the first ones) pulled a flash drive from the machine and scurried off. I laughed.

I could see a computer screen about twenty feet from where I lay. A few minutes later, I saw images appear. Catherine, who had been trying to make me comfortable (bringing warm blankets, etc.) sat down to look at them. I knew they were mine from the obvious swelling around the ankle and the angles.

Not long afterward, Dale appeared to tell me they had finally gotten the files read. “Your head is fine. So is your chest.” (I could have told him this.)

“I saw my ankle.”

“You saw the break?”

“No. It was too far away, but I knew they were my x-rays.”

“Well, you have a fracture of the fibula.”

Thank God, it wasn’t the ankle joint itself!

Catherine finally put on a splint—the same awful kind they had put on my wrist. I hated that one, and I hated this one even more.

Once it was set up, they said I could go home. I was more than ready!

We had each only eaten a small red velvet cupcake around nine-thirty. We only ate those because we had decided to see the show at noon and then eat a late lunch afterward.

It was now nearing seven in the evening. We had been up since six a.m. and had spent over six hours at the hospital.

We drove through a drive-in and picked up sandwiches for dinner. We were starving!

When we arrived home, we had another challenge. We have a two-story house with no bedrooms downstairs and only a half bath. I needed to get to bed, so I had to find a way to get upstairs. Larry pulled, pushed, and dragged me upstairs. Once we reached the landing, I crawled into the bedroom. Getting into bed proved another challenge, but we made it.

We finally ate our dinner in the bedroom. I ate half, and Larry ate all of his.

At the hospital, they’d offered me a boot. Un…no. I had one when I sprained my ankle at the same time I broke my wrist. It was uncomfortable, and I felt as though I was off balance and falling down every time I tried to step. (The bottom was curved and about 2” off the ground. It was also slick.) So, they gave me crutches. I warned them I didn’t have enough upper body strength to use them, but we brought them home. Unfortunately, I was right…

The next day, our friend who had borrowed my mom’s walker brought it back. At least I could push down on the walker and hop. It allowed me to get around. Not easily, but at least I could move. A little.

The toilet proved to be the biggest challenge. To get there, I had to cross our (large) bedroom, go through the (large) dressing room, get through the (narrow) door, and then sit on the (low) toilet. Unfortunately, the bathroom door opened over the front of the toilet. Works fine most of the time, but I now had to get the walker into the room with me and figure out how to get around the door. (The next day, Larry removed it.)

The issue was then how to get up from the toilet using only one foot. We have a towel rack next to the toilet. Unfortunately, it is more decorative than functional. It can’t be used as a grab bar.

Thank goodness for Feldenkrais training! At least I could figure out how to get my weight balanced, but it wasn’t easy! And the more often I did it, the harder it became.

After he removed the door, Larry rented a wheelchair. BIG HELP!

I could actually sit in the chair, wheel myself, and push with my good foot. Much simpler.

But the issue of getting off the toilet continued.

The day after the accident, I called the orthopedic surgeon. This was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. The earliest appointment I could get was the Wednesday AFTER Thanksgiving. (I presume he was booked up and was taking at least the entire weekend off, just like everyone else.) SIGH. This meant dealing with the heavy, uncomfortable splint, wheelchair, and low toilet for nine days.

On the Sunday after Thanksgiving, Larry was in the office working. I was feeling over-confident. I got to the bathroom, sat on the toilet, and took care of my business. Then I tried to stand up…

As I nearly got up and onto the seat, the wheelchair rolled backward, and I landed on the floor.

I lost it. I still had over three days before I could see the doctor, and I couldn’t even get to the bathroom by myself. Larry had told me not to try to do it by myself, but I was feeling guilty for being so demanding. (He didn’t see it that way, thank God!)

So, I acquired a few more bruises but no more damage to other bones or joints.

The next day, we got a 2” padded extension for the toilet seat. This brought it up nearly to the same height as the seat on the wheelchair. Getting off became a bit easier.

Wednesday finally arrived, and I went to see the doctor. He cut off the awful splint. My leg felt much better without the darn thing. The foot was still a bit swollen and had turned a lovely shade of Shrek green.

He took a couple new x-rays. The break is healing nicely, and I hadn’t done any additional damage. Thank God.

He quickly put on a cast—much smaller and lighter than the hated splint. I got to choose the color. I picked purple. Once it set up, he said I could walk on it a bit. Of course, he warned me not to overdo it. (I suspect he intuited I probably would if not warned.)

So now, I am getting around on this beautiful foot.

I am back to using the walker here at home.

Kim arrives on the 16^th, and I look forward to having her here. We got her a Disneyland ticket for the 18^th, and we’ll go. But we will take the wheelchair since it should be a lot easier.

And, no, I haven’t gotten tired of Disneyland.