Just A Leech On The Groin Of Society

Mrs. Nator surprised me yesterday. She told me that she'd been working out some figures, and decided that it would be better for us to take out another loan until I graduate, rather than having me find another job.

Do you think it had something to do with the hour-long crying jag/anxiety attack I had that morning?

Yes, school has been more intense than I ever imagined it. "A two-year degree at a community college," thought I. "How hard could it be?"

I did not realize that the reason they have about a 100% rate of graduates passing the licensing exam and getting jobs immediately is because most of the students wash out before graduation. Nor did I realize they essentially cram three or four years' worth of information into two straight years, with almost no break, since we have summer internships. Finally, I did not realize how the thought of possibly screwing up and hurting an animal - as I nearly did by mis-placing my first solo endotracheal intubation into the dog's esophagus instead of her trachea - would raise my already high anxiety generator to nuclear meltdown levels.

So, thank you Mrs. Nator. What's another few thousand in debt when at least we haven't defaulted on a mortgage or lost our shirts in the stock market? Now, I hope, I can focus on studying, rehabilitating my leg, and learning how to meditate the stress out and the confidence in. I'll make you proud, I promise.

Glass Half Full

I broke my uninsured cell phone - but the nice young man at the service center got me a free replacement phone as a courtesy! So, all I lost were some blurry photos from a Joan Osborne concert and a few phone numbers, not several hundred dollars.

I had to schlep to the city and wait a long time to get the phone - but I got to sit in lovely Bryant Park and watch the Polish Day Parade at one end and some quaint old French guys playing petanque on the other - now that's cultah!

I had to leave my job because of my knee injury - but the head receptionist at the office has to be out for a couple months, so they might hire me back at the front desk!

My days off from school are over - but that's great, because I seem to get all stressed out when I don't have a structured day and things to do!

I can't afford any new clothes - but you can't even tell that I patched my favourite old jeans!

We are durn near broke this month, what with my accident and loss of employment - but there's a two-for-one special on spaghetti sauce at the Latino supermarket!

This message has been brought to you by the Campaign to Get Me To See Some Silver Linings and Stop Wallowing Pathetically.

Life Is Like A Roller Coaster

Lately, with my knee injury and trying to stay in school and find a new job, it's felt that way to me. My first memory of a coaster, however, is a little bit different than most. I've carried to this day a visceral but clear memory of in my head of the first "big kid" coaster I ever went on when I was probably no more than five. It wasn't a traditional coaster, but a toboggan that when vertically up a dark tube, then out into the sunlight and down and around in spiraling turns to a few gentle dips at the bottom. For some reason, the period in the tube, tilted onto my back staring up in anticipation, is the part I get visions of every now ant then.

That ride in Wildwood, NJ, is long gone, but thanks to the interwebs, I've found POV footage of an exact replica in Altoona, PA. Watch and enter deep into the recesses of Da Nator's mysterious psyche! (Or is that id? Apply your own school of psychology!)

What strikes me most about this now is how much it mimics being born. Seriously, you're put in an uncomfortable position, faced with an irreversible path into the dark where you don't know what will happen next, thrust through a scary tube into blinding light and whirled around in a vantage point you've never seen before. No wonder it's stuck in my subconsciousness!

That or, you know, it was just something I'd never done before and a very cool ride. Here's hoping your coaster ride doesn't malfunction and throw you off into space...

Finally, I have something in common with Tom Brady.

Too bad it isn't his salary. What I mean is, for the second time at the beginning of a school year, I have injured my right leg in a ridiculous manner.

You may remember that an unfortunate encounter with a granny cart while merely doing my laundry left part of my shin cored down to the bone and the entirety of me holed up in the hospital for some time after the wound went septic. This time, it was also a fairly innocent event. A little trip to the beach at Cape May, NJ for a couple days, to be exact.

I mainly booked a couple days at the beach because I had my annual forceful yearning to swim in the ocean. However, when we got there, the surf seemed rougher than I expected. There was even a cluster of surfers catching some actual curling waves - not a usual site on many placid New Jersey shores.

At this point, a disagreement broke out between Mrs. Nator and I that went something like this:

Me: Well, going for a swim now!

She: Honey, I'm not sure you should. I don't see many other people in the water.

Me: (Not seeing warning flags posted) Well, it looks a little rough, but we're right here in front of the lifeguard's station. I'm sure it will be fine.

She: (Wading in a bit with me) The current is really strong. I don't think you should go out. Stop going out so far!

Me: Yes, it's strong and pretty cold. I'm kind of surprised. I haven't seen it like this before here. But I really want to go swimming! That's what we freakin' came here for, so I'm going in!

She: (Gripping my forearm) Don't you go in there! It is not safe and I don't want you going in there and getting hurt!

Me: (Flailing) OHMYGOD I AM NEARLY FORTY YEARS OLD AND I HAVE BEEN GOING TO THE BEACH SINCE I WAS A BABY! I THINK I CAN FREAKING HANDLE A LITTLE ROUGH SURF FOR CHISSAKES! LEAVE ME ALONE!

At any rate, she won the first round, but as soon as she dozed off, I went back to the water. Where she found me at the edge and accused me of trying to sneak away and scaring her to death, with me responding that I thought she heard me go and I wanted to swim, Goddamnit. Repeat argument 1, with less politesse.

Fast forward less than five minutes. I have stormed partially into the water. A giant wave comes and smacks me in the side of the knee while my foot is planted in the sand. I hear a distinct "click-CLICK!" as the joint bends unnaturally sideways and I go down. "That's probably not good," I muse to myself, then spend the next five to ten minutes flailing in the surf, letting wave after wave spin me around while the lifeguards repeatedly blow their whistles at me (gee, thanks), because I'm not sure I can get up.

I do get up. I can walk - wobbling and painfully, but I can. I have swelling and some trouble with stairs and walking long distances over the next few days, but with ice and rest it gets better. Until the first week of class, when, while innocently walking across the floor in the animal lab center, my knee completely buckles under me, leaving me on the floor in the doggy position, keening in pain in front of everyone.

I agree to go to the doctor at the urging of the folks in the vet tech program, who reasonably enough don't want me toppling over and flinging animals. I get an xray. The doctor thinks I'm fine and can go back to doing whatever. He says I could get an MRI, if I want. I decide to do it, just to be safe.

And I have a torn anterior cruciate ligament.

I will have to get surgery, eventually. Right now I'm trying to opt out of it in order to complete my final year at school. Lots of people make it around just fine for some time on torn ACLs, as long as they don't have very athletic things they have to do. The problem is, I have to get my doctor to sign off on a list of physical activities I have to do for class, such as stoop, lift 50 pounds, turn and balance. I also have a job where I'm carrying things, including live animals, and running around and on my feet for 10 hours at a time. I'm not sure if/how this will all work out.

So, if you've been wondering why I haven't been posting lately, there it is. I'm trying to work this out and keep up with a so-demanding-it-makes-my eyeballs-bulge-and-my-brain-weep-angels'-tears course schedule. Wish me luck... and don't go in the water!

Please Pardon The Interruption

What kind of idiot mutilates herself with a granny cart?

I have a giant hole in my leg!

I am so behind on everything in school I am never going to catch up!

The universe is trying to tell me that I made a mistake in going back to school!

I don't WANT to have to go back to doing computer work to make enough money!

I don't deserve anything better!

I am a failure! And unlovable!

It's NOOOT FAAAAAIRRRR!!!

WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

Sigh.

Well. I wonder if that got it out of my system?

I'm OK, You're OK

Good news: I just got back from the surgeon's office, and he said my wound is healing excellently. Thanks to Mrs. Nator's vigilant and attentive care, it is now no longer acute, but "red, beefy and granular," which is apparently how the inside of one's leg is supposed to look.

This means that I am okayed to go back to all my normal activities. Yay! So, it's back to class for me on Tuesday, and back to pet sitting sometime this weekend. Now, if I can get all caught up with my studying and other duties, maybe I will have something more interesting to blog about than fevers and misapplied stitches. (I'm working on it.)

As an aside, I found out today that there's a good reason that surgeons aren't usually the ones bandaging their own work. Ten minutes out of the doctor's office and my ace bandage had exploded, leaving me trailing gauze out my jeans leg and down the street. As a consequence, I also found out today that I can dress my own wound! Either I'm just getting used to the sight of a big hole in my shin, or it really is getting a lot better looking. Maybe both.

P.S.: For those or you (sickos) who requested photos (and you know who you are), this is the closest you're going to get. Actually, at first it looked a lot worse than that, so maybe for Halloween I should just ditch the dressing and wear shorts...?

Well, Then.

So, remember how I said I was back from the hospital? Well, that lasted all of about three hours.

Yup, I took a nap and woke up with a high fever and my leg all inflamed again. I do not know why they discharged me, but I don't trust that hospital anymore, so I went to my regular doctor. He took a look at it and sent me immediately to another hospital, where he is friends with the director of the ER. Fortunately, this meant I was able to get in pretty quickly.

Long story short, I was admitted, tested and given many more rounds of antibiotics. On top of that, a surgeon was called in to look at my wound and, after making all of the disgusted faces that everyone seems to be compelled to make when they see it, he said I needed the stitches removed immediately, and to have it debrided. This meant that they knocked me out, opened that puppy back up, and cut out all the worst parts with a scalpel. Fun, fun, fun!

After that, it's been a few days of more antibiotics, wound cleaning, monitoring and Percoset as they saw how things went. It was not until yesterday, Friday, that I was finally allowed to go home, much to my relief (and Mrs. Nator's and Ma Nator's, who had come in to visit me). Now that I'm home, however, I still need a visiting nurse to come in every day for a while to clean the wound and change the packing (yes, packing - it's basically an open trench in my right shin about 7-8 inches long and 1-2 inches wide, and down almost to the bone, stuffed with loose gauze). Plus, I'll be on antibiotics and the occasional narcotic, as well as restricted movement, so I'll be out of classes for at least another week.

It's all so strange. Who knew a shopping cart could be so deadly? The good news is, I can walk - just not for long distances - and it doesn't hurt terribly most of the time. The bad news is, THERE'S A GIANT FREAKIN' HOLE IN MY LEG!

Not only that, but from what I learned from the surgeon, the first hospital did pretty much exactly the wrong thing with my wound (which - did I mention? - he compared to a "serious shrapnel wound"). Stitching it up tight and sending me home without making sure I was on antibiotics - then, later, discharging me after one night and keep thing the stitches in - made everything work. Now we have to talk to a lawyer friend and consider taking some action, which is not something I'd ever expect myself to do, but CARNFARN IT, I'M MAD!!!

Ahem. Anyway, I'm back and all that, for now. Perhaps I'll post next time on Percoset, just to make it entertaining.

P.S.: Shopping cart = my new KHAAAAANNNN!!!

Ruh-Roh

I'm back from the wilds of New Jersey, and I thought I might get a chance to relax for a while today. Unfortunately, I feel like crap and we think my leg might be infected.

Sigh.

Back to the emergency room...

 

P.S.: No funnel cake, but I lots of photos and a pumpkin donut. I'll have more photos of my mom's art up on her blog soon, too.

I Left My Leg... In Brooklyn, New York!

And my laundry in a bar on Fifth Avenue. Okay, it was just part of my leg. What the hell am I talking about?

Well, I had a little accident last night. I was wheeling my laundry home, thinking about Chem class the next morning and grumbling to myself, when I came to the well-known fucked-up curb ramp on 16th St and 5th Ave. "There's that well-known fucked-up curb ramp," I thought briefly to myself. "I hate that thing. Now I'm going to have to dykehandle my laundry cart over the big holes in it." Which I proceeded to do, while looking away from it for oncoming traffic. And that's when I had the accident.

If you are familiar with New York, you probably know about the Ubiquitous Metal Cart, or UMC. Because most New Yorkers walk everywhere and many don't have laundry facilities in their buildings, on a daily basis you may see dozens of people pushing their UMCs full of groceries, junk, or bags of laundry. What you did not know is that, apparently, the UMCs should also be known as The Carts of DOOOOOM!!!

All of which is to say that my cart wheel wedged in the hole, tipped over forward, and somehow gouged a large chunk out of my leg. I wasn't even sure what happened at first - I was just mad it fell over and thought I had a scrape. Then I saw the blood filling my shoe.

Fortunately, a very kind stranger named Cathy happened to be just behind me with her shopping cart, and saw the whole thing. She righted the cart, helped me fish an old towel out of the laundry to staunch the flow, let me use her cell phone and wheeled the cart into a local bar for safekeeping. If that weren't enough, just a few moments later an ambulance happened to be passing by, and she hailed it so they pulled over to help me. She even hopped into the ambulance with me, asking if I needed her to go to the hospital with me for "emotional support"! By then, I had gone from pissed but calm, to blubbering mini-panic when I actually saw the severity of the wound, and back into bemused but calm again, so I told her thank you and I'd buy her a drink at the bar sometime, but she could go.

I was very lucky during the whole thing, besides the weird sort of foul luck that allows one to get disfigured by a runaway, nine-dollar shopping cart, that is. The truth is, I had almost no pain the whole time, until they did the lavage and numbing shots, and even that was just a sting now and then. I had a kind stranger look after me, some very nice paramedics who just happened to be there at the time (guardian angel, much?) and a cast of cute young doctors out of Scrubs cast by a fashion shoot. I expected to finally be in pain this morning, both from the 29 stitches (8 inside, 21 out) and the infamously sore-making tetanus shot, but so far, barely a twinge. In fact, the only bad consequences so far have been missing my first Chem lab (boo hoo), a probable very ugly scar to come, and the loss of a blood-soaked sock (the paramedics' advice of washing the sneaker in hydrogen peroxide seems to have done the job, which FN might appreciate knowing). Well, those things and a lingering feeling of nausea after seeing my leg open down to the muscle (I'm hoping I'll be able to better handle seeing animal injuries than this, or vet tech school might be a mistake), and washing out my shoe to find sizable... bits of me still clinging to it. You're welcome for that image, by the way.

And that's my story, kids. My lessons learned?

1.) Be careful where you're going, especially when pushing a cheap, sharp metal cart.

2.) Relying on the kindness of strangers really isn't so bad
&
3.) God as my witness, from now on I will have my laundry picked up and delivered!

P.S.: Do you think I can sue the various nurses who kept walking by and recoiling, then commenting how bad my cut looked, for emotional trauma? What about the one who gasped and said, "oh, that looks so bad! And you had such beautiful skin!" Do they teach that kind of bedside manner in nursing school?

P.P.S.: Can I sue the city for the fucked-up curb? I don't think I was being inordinately clumsy, and I have a witness! Plus, then I wouldn't have to work while in school. Hmmm...