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What Have We Learned
Mar. 16th, 2013 01:59 pmAs mentioned, about five weeks ago, I broke my ankle in three places walking home from the pub. While certainly not the kind of injury that changes your life or makes you re-assess how you're living, it hasn't been without at least some level of reflection on some things, and makes you consider what you have.
When I broke it, I ended up lying on a cold, wet street for about 30 mins, with my phone having issues (thank you Apple's decision to make a fucking buggy podcast player instead of leaving them on iTunes, and instead disabling my receiver). Some girls found me at the same time the police showed up at my door responding to a 911 call. By the time the ambulance was there, so was my girlfriend, who proceeded to spend the next day and a half in uncomfortable circumstances, while I navigated a Canadian hospital. She went on powered by crappy coffee as I lay in their receiving ward for ten hours, before making it up to a bed in an unintentionally private room. She dealt with nurses and staff to help make me comfortable, emptied bed pans (which are actually recycled heavy cardboard which look like old milk bottles and make a crap load of sense), found things to watch on the laptop so we both didn't go insane, waited for hours while I had surgery and slept on the floor because she wasn't willing to go home. I can't tell you how many times I wondered how I would have handled it if I'd been alone? Or if she had been a reasonable person and had gone home to sleep and get cleaned up for twelve hours. Instead, she stayed by me the whole time, leaving when I did.
My roommate took the baton next, doing all the shopping, helping set up a comfortable nest in the living room, emptying garbage cans and fetching soda and pills. She cleaned up, picked up food, and made sure that I was alright before leaving each morning, and cancelled her plans to hang out at night. In short, Rossi once again did the most important thing a friend can do - being there when it counts. My friend Johnny worked as a taxi for the duration, even though he had a busy schedule, making sure I could arrange what I needed to get done. Lauren, coming off of a tough half year in Morocco and having plenty of her own things to worry about, has happily jumped in to drive, shop and fetch, a smile and tremendous patience that she certainly doesn't owe other than by her own choice.
My other friends offered tremendous support, even if from most of them it was through the internet - keeping me distracted and engaged, being gentle about my drug induced mood swings and soliloquies, sending me logs and art and silly things to cut the trapped, isolated feelings of being on the couch. One of them shared her non-spoiler reaction to the newest DLC of our mutual obsession Mass Effect, mostly in a series of OMFG!!! messages. The first time I limped out to the pub for a band night, three weeks after the accident, I was met with a standing ovation, a parade of free drinks, and a ride home from the bassist.
My work, for all its faults, has been nothing but stellar in arranging so I missed little time, working from home. They have been sympathetic about the injury, and while they forget regularly that Dex on drugs isn't as sharp and accurate as normal, they still have made staying productive (and getting properly paid) possible when they didn't necessarily have to.
Even the hospital itself, with a few frustrating exceptions, has been wonderful. They have been mostly engaged professionals who while are working fast, never the less have appreciate humour and patience, trying to make the experience as painless as possible. For all the faults of the Canadian health care system - and there are many - I was given the best care possible, treated with respect as an injured person as much as they could, and at the end of the day, my costs are minimal for a remarkable level of care. Even the support systems in play have been great, qualifying me for a program run by our transit - the TTC - which provides door to door service for the disabled (temporary and permanent) for the same price as a bus ticket. Seeing the frustrations involved in just being on the crutches for a few weeks, I can only imagine just how important and vital it is for someone for whom this is a fact of life to stay active and independent on a normal budget.
And let me tell you, you gain a new respect for the ability to live your life when you're healthy. A broken ankle is pretty far down on the list of life changing medical challenges you can face. But it does trap you to a pair of crutches to move around. Distances that you'd travel without a second thought normally become impossibly far. Getting up to use the washroom or get something to eat or drink requires planning. You have to rely on other people because you know being stubborn will live you winded for the next twenty minutes and in pain for the next hour. It's a hard thing to adapt to, but thanks to my friends, the community built up around me, I've never been alone getting through this. It's not really enough, but thank you all again - for reminding me just how awful things are when you're alone, and how grateful I am not to be.
When I broke it, I ended up lying on a cold, wet street for about 30 mins, with my phone having issues (thank you Apple's decision to make a fucking buggy podcast player instead of leaving them on iTunes, and instead disabling my receiver). Some girls found me at the same time the police showed up at my door responding to a 911 call. By the time the ambulance was there, so was my girlfriend, who proceeded to spend the next day and a half in uncomfortable circumstances, while I navigated a Canadian hospital. She went on powered by crappy coffee as I lay in their receiving ward for ten hours, before making it up to a bed in an unintentionally private room. She dealt with nurses and staff to help make me comfortable, emptied bed pans (which are actually recycled heavy cardboard which look like old milk bottles and make a crap load of sense), found things to watch on the laptop so we both didn't go insane, waited for hours while I had surgery and slept on the floor because she wasn't willing to go home. I can't tell you how many times I wondered how I would have handled it if I'd been alone? Or if she had been a reasonable person and had gone home to sleep and get cleaned up for twelve hours. Instead, she stayed by me the whole time, leaving when I did.
My roommate took the baton next, doing all the shopping, helping set up a comfortable nest in the living room, emptying garbage cans and fetching soda and pills. She cleaned up, picked up food, and made sure that I was alright before leaving each morning, and cancelled her plans to hang out at night. In short, Rossi once again did the most important thing a friend can do - being there when it counts. My friend Johnny worked as a taxi for the duration, even though he had a busy schedule, making sure I could arrange what I needed to get done. Lauren, coming off of a tough half year in Morocco and having plenty of her own things to worry about, has happily jumped in to drive, shop and fetch, a smile and tremendous patience that she certainly doesn't owe other than by her own choice.
My other friends offered tremendous support, even if from most of them it was through the internet - keeping me distracted and engaged, being gentle about my drug induced mood swings and soliloquies, sending me logs and art and silly things to cut the trapped, isolated feelings of being on the couch. One of them shared her non-spoiler reaction to the newest DLC of our mutual obsession Mass Effect, mostly in a series of OMFG!!! messages. The first time I limped out to the pub for a band night, three weeks after the accident, I was met with a standing ovation, a parade of free drinks, and a ride home from the bassist.
My work, for all its faults, has been nothing but stellar in arranging so I missed little time, working from home. They have been sympathetic about the injury, and while they forget regularly that Dex on drugs isn't as sharp and accurate as normal, they still have made staying productive (and getting properly paid) possible when they didn't necessarily have to.
Even the hospital itself, with a few frustrating exceptions, has been wonderful. They have been mostly engaged professionals who while are working fast, never the less have appreciate humour and patience, trying to make the experience as painless as possible. For all the faults of the Canadian health care system - and there are many - I was given the best care possible, treated with respect as an injured person as much as they could, and at the end of the day, my costs are minimal for a remarkable level of care. Even the support systems in play have been great, qualifying me for a program run by our transit - the TTC - which provides door to door service for the disabled (temporary and permanent) for the same price as a bus ticket. Seeing the frustrations involved in just being on the crutches for a few weeks, I can only imagine just how important and vital it is for someone for whom this is a fact of life to stay active and independent on a normal budget.
And let me tell you, you gain a new respect for the ability to live your life when you're healthy. A broken ankle is pretty far down on the list of life changing medical challenges you can face. But it does trap you to a pair of crutches to move around. Distances that you'd travel without a second thought normally become impossibly far. Getting up to use the washroom or get something to eat or drink requires planning. You have to rely on other people because you know being stubborn will live you winded for the next twenty minutes and in pain for the next hour. It's a hard thing to adapt to, but thanks to my friends, the community built up around me, I've never been alone getting through this. It's not really enough, but thank you all again - for reminding me just how awful things are when you're alone, and how grateful I am not to be.
