Okay, So It's a Little Late....
Last Saturday Colin and Mike and I went to Berkeley Ironworks, an indoor climbing gym. The plan was to get in some good climbing and then go to Fo... some really good ice cream store in Oakland. Fenton's, that's it. The ice cream was because last Thursday I had my wisdom teeth out, so we figured we deserved some cold, creamy decadence. Needless to say, we never quite made it to Fenton's.
We climbed for a bit, and were doing pretty well (though I could definitely feel the lack of recent climbing affecting my abilities). My teeth were doing just fine, even though my mouth was still swollen and chipmunk-esque. Eventually, we were all clambering over a relatively footless V3 that went up an arete. We each made a little more progress, and I had just made it to the last move or two by means of a heel-hook, but I didn't quite make the catch for the next hold off to the right. Down I came, as I had a million times before, but this time I landed squarely on the edge of the 10-inch tall crash pad, which shunted my foot off to the side as my body continued it's fall to the ground. There was a fantastic popping sound, and I was surprised that I had managed to pop the pad like that, but as I rolled backward and sideways I saw my foot dangling limply to one side. I certainly hadn't moved it there. It seemed I hadn't broken the crash pad after all...
No, it was a compound fracture of my right tib-fib. Colin was wonderful and held the two pieces of my leg steady while Mike was equally wonderful and held my hand after ensuring that an ambulance had been called. There was some creative splinting, some morphine, lots of name-spelling and assurances that I wasn't allergic to anything, and my first-ever trip to the hospital. I broke it around 1:15, and the orthopedic surgeon finished with me sometime around 9:30 that night. I was in the hospital until Tuesday night, though I could have left anytime after Tuesday morning had my brace arrived earlier. I now have .233 pounds of titanium in my right tibia, no cast, and lots of staples in my leg. My poor body is trying desperately to grow new blood and new bones, and sitting up becomes painful relatively rapidly; hence the fast and dirty account instead of the medically detailed treatise I was planning to put up here in my sadly-copious free time.
Broken bones hurt, by the way, so I don't recommend them, though it's better than a joint injury insofar as in 6 months I'll be indistinguishable from an un-broken Lara, except perhaps for some scarring where my tibia broke through the skin and a lack of at least 4-8 weeks worth of climbing.. *sigh* *grin*
I'll try to keep things updated, and try also to link to the more graphic descriptions instead of including them outright. Things'll just depend upon how much pain it costs me to sit here and type.
Ideas for things to do physically and mentally are appreciated, since now I'll have to figure out how to be active and healthy and not insane while on crutches and mostly bed-ridden for a while. But it's okay---I'm looking forward to the challenge of getting better and being self-sufficient, don't worry.
We climbed for a bit, and were doing pretty well (though I could definitely feel the lack of recent climbing affecting my abilities). My teeth were doing just fine, even though my mouth was still swollen and chipmunk-esque. Eventually, we were all clambering over a relatively footless V3 that went up an arete. We each made a little more progress, and I had just made it to the last move or two by means of a heel-hook, but I didn't quite make the catch for the next hold off to the right. Down I came, as I had a million times before, but this time I landed squarely on the edge of the 10-inch tall crash pad, which shunted my foot off to the side as my body continued it's fall to the ground. There was a fantastic popping sound, and I was surprised that I had managed to pop the pad like that, but as I rolled backward and sideways I saw my foot dangling limply to one side. I certainly hadn't moved it there. It seemed I hadn't broken the crash pad after all...
No, it was a compound fracture of my right tib-fib. Colin was wonderful and held the two pieces of my leg steady while Mike was equally wonderful and held my hand after ensuring that an ambulance had been called. There was some creative splinting, some morphine, lots of name-spelling and assurances that I wasn't allergic to anything, and my first-ever trip to the hospital. I broke it around 1:15, and the orthopedic surgeon finished with me sometime around 9:30 that night. I was in the hospital until Tuesday night, though I could have left anytime after Tuesday morning had my brace arrived earlier. I now have .233 pounds of titanium in my right tibia, no cast, and lots of staples in my leg. My poor body is trying desperately to grow new blood and new bones, and sitting up becomes painful relatively rapidly; hence the fast and dirty account instead of the medically detailed treatise I was planning to put up here in my sadly-copious free time.
Broken bones hurt, by the way, so I don't recommend them, though it's better than a joint injury insofar as in 6 months I'll be indistinguishable from an un-broken Lara, except perhaps for some scarring where my tibia broke through the skin and a lack of at least 4-8 weeks worth of climbing.. *sigh* *grin*
I'll try to keep things updated, and try also to link to the more graphic descriptions instead of including them outright. Things'll just depend upon how much pain it costs me to sit here and type.
Ideas for things to do physically and mentally are appreciated, since now I'll have to figure out how to be active and healthy and not insane while on crutches and mostly bed-ridden for a while. But it's okay---I'm looking forward to the challenge of getting better and being self-sufficient, don't worry.