So, Tuesday, Jan 23 I had a serious workplace accident. I fell off the back of a trailer loading ramp about 5 ft. Fractured 2 vertebrae which required emergency surgery, broke so many ribs on my right side the surgeon just calls them multiple ribs, fractured my clavicle, damaged lungs, and let’s see… oh, broke one of my toes. Like a middle one which is weird. This happened in the London area, about 2 ½ hours from home and I just got back now Saturday, Feb 3. Big shout out and love to Four Counties Hospital and especially London Victoria Hospital.
Because of the spinal injury I had a 50% chance or being paralyzed, but I’m good. There are other things, like being very close to actual death, but again, that didn’t happen so not going to dwell.
I’m home now, in tremendous pain but getting better. Here are some pics for the obligatory sympathy.
Health Update:
Firstmost, thank you everyone for your concern and kind words. It really means a lot. I’ve been home since Feb 3 and on the mend. I’ve had my stitches and staples removed and all but one pesky stitch has healed.
I seem to alternate between good days (less pain) and bad days (ow-ow-ow) My back feels like numb meat, but as the nurse reminded me, all the nerves have been severed back there so, duh. Ribs are getting better, but I keep forgetting the clavicle is broken too and, being right-handed, well, I am being painfully reminded.
My days (and nights) are spent in a fully automated reclining chair. Not only does it stretch out to essentially become a bed, it rises up so far that it nearly puts me in a standing position which has become a game changer to my basic mobility. Perhaps next week I might consider laying in a real bed if I can get in and out without assistance. I use a black wheeled walker which I dubbed Johnny. Yes, Johnny Walker Black. I use the walker to get around my apartment and the occasional trips to the medical world. Other than that, my world is the recliner or my chair at my computer desk which I can only take for small amounts of time.
My oldest daughter is with me 24/7. Sadly, she has learned things about her dear old dad she wished she never had, but as I keep telling her, it’s pay back for when she was a baby.
Finally, I would like to thank my critique group the Stopwatch Gang members Tony Pi, Stephen Kotowych, Costi Gurgu, Suzanne Church, and Pippa Wy for a very kind gift. When you join a great critiquing group you don’t just improve your writing, you get friends for life.
Anyway, that’s where I am. One day at a time. Not dead yet. Hope to see you all some day.
Mike
This is February 23 making it one month since my accident. I’m getting much better, standing on my own and even getting dressed by myself (as long as the clothes are baggy enough). I had the first of a two follow ups with my surgeons and they’re very impressed. So much so they even said, “We don’t want to see you anymore.” Now, that’s making an impression.
So, for those interested, here is what happened to my best recollection. When I’m not being a world-famous fiction writer, I deliver produce to a certain big supermarket chain. Usually, I deliver to loading docks but the smaller, older stores require a power tailgate (those loading ramps you see at the back of trucks). January 23 was a bad weather day, and not going into details, but this particular pallet was loaded in such a way as to make it a complete pain in the ass. I had to heave and haul on a pallet jack out on the ramp while the store’s receiver was inside the trailer pushing. When I’m out on the ramp I’m very conscious (very, very conscious) of my footing and how close I am to the edge of the ramp.
Anyway, that didn’t seem to matter.
To this day I’m not sure what exactly happened, and there were no true witnesses as the receiver’s view was blocked by the pallet we were manhandling. My guess is one of two things happened. One, when the wheels of the pallet jack left the trailer, it landed on the ramp with enough force to bounce me off balance and I performed my own version of the triple Lindy. The second possibility is the pallet hit the ramp causing it to tilt and rolled into me, knocking me over like Ronald Weasley in Wizard Chess. Either way, I dropped some five feet to the ground. I do remember this: I knew I was going to fall and all I could think was “protect your head.” I did, and in doing so probably why I hurt everything else. From the pain, and past experience, I suspected I broke some ribs and maybe some other stuff. The store was quick to call an ambulance. When they arrived the paramedics asked what happened. I said I fell off the trailer. The guy whistles, “Wow, that’s about 6 feet.”
“No, more like 5,” I say because…I’m trying to be humble?
“Six sounds better.”
“Okay. Fair enough.”
They put the neck brace on. I scream. They roll me onto THE BOARD. I really scream. Into the ambulance I go to the local hospital. They slide me off THE BOARD because they want it back. I scream so more. At this point I no longer care. It just helps. I think they took x-rays. By this time morphine has become my best friend. But this was a small local hospital and their CAT scan was wonky or had no technician on duty. Either way, I had to go to the big London hospital.
Back onto THE BOARD. More screaming. Hospitals love their BOARDS. It’s how they shove immobile patients onto gurneys, onto beds, onto examinations tables, into CAT scanners. By the end of it I begged them, please, no more BOARDS. They just smiled. There would be more BOARDS in my future.
So, I’m back in emergency and a face appears before me. “Mr. Rimar, you have multiple broken ribs, a fractured clavicle, but most importantly, two fractured vertebrae. We should operate and put in pins, but because you have degenerative spinal disease, it makes it tricky. There is a chance of paralysis. However, if we leave it the chance increases greatly.”
Now, I’ve seen enough medical shows to know that the ‘chance’ probably isn’t that great and a lot of this is just surgeons covering their ass. “Operate,” I say. Partly to get it over with. Partly because I’ll be put under with anesthetic and finally find pain relief. I wasn’t completely blasé about the situation. As I was going under, I kept images of my two daughters in my mind, because if this was it, well…
Obviously, I awoke. The operation went well. I wiggled my toes for the nurse and waited for a bed in the trauma ward. They find one. Get me into the bed. You guessed it, more BOARDs. Then they hand me button. If I can’t handle the pain just press the button for an added dose of morphine. I press it immediately. The button resets every12 minutes. I hit it again. And again until I pass out.
Now, if you’ve ever been in the hospital as a patient, you quickly learn true bed rest is a myth. Every two hours nurses come in to take blood pressure, blood, give medication, in my case Tylenol and a synthetic morphine dubbed Hydro. That’s why we sleep all day, because there is not sleep at night. Anyway, to say I was out of it is an understatement. I must have lain in bed for a day and a half before realizing I still wore my glasses. The following day they made me sit up. Then stand up. Think of ground meat being forced into a sausage casing. That’s how my chest felt, never mind the fire in my broken shoulder. I lay back down, equally painful.
I pressed the button. A lot. I am forced to take all my meals sitting in a chair. That’s filling the sausage casing three times a day.
A couple days later the spine surgeon visits. “So good to hear you’re able to stand and walk around. You had a 50% chance of paralysis.”
HOLY SHIT!
That was just the first of many revelations. The other was a little more scary with possibilities. I finally contacted the receiver who was assisting me with the unload. He was inside the trailer when I fell but his view was obstructed and did not actually see what happened. What he did see was that, after I lay screaming in pain, the pallet was teetering off-balance near the edge of the ramp. He held it back until help arrived. That didn’t mean the pallet would’ve fallen, but if it had, some 600 lbs of potatoes and bottled water falling five feet would have ended me right there and then.
HOLY SHIT!
There are other more minor things I learned overtime. Some concerning, some amusing. I spent 11 days in the hospital. During that time I had two earworms that just wouldn’t go away. The first was KD Lang’s Constant Craving which I think the ambulance was playing as I was being transported to the hospital. The other was Bob Marley’s Three Little Birds, in particular the lines:
“Don’t worry ’bout a thing
‘Cause every little thing gonna be alright.”
I refused to play this at the hospital, vowing only to do so once I got home. I did. One of the first things I did.
And upon hearing the words, I finally broke.
Since then, it’s been a long steady road to recovery. I can shuffle around the apartment without my walker. My sides don’t hurt so nearly as much and next week I’m going to see if I can get in and out of my bed unassisted. (I’ve been sleeping in a magical recliner.) In mid-March I see the spine surgeon for another follow-up and a physio schedule.
And I finally got rid of the earworms.
Mike