The Bone Isn’t The Only Thing Broken Around Here

(I fall in my house while holding my two-year-old. As I fall, I turn my body to hold her against the wall so I do not crush her, and as a result, end up with a spiral fracture on my fibula, and a broken and dislocated ankle. When I arrive at the hospital, they try to wrench my ankle back into place but don’t quite align it, so they have to do it again. Of course, this time I know it’s coming, so they decide to use some sort of anesthesia that is meant to make the patient woozy and forget what happened. I’m concerned about whether this will work, and express that concern to the nurse preparing me for the injection.)

Nurse: “Don’t worry; you won’t remember a thing! It probably won’t hurt, either.”

Me: “Can’t you just use this with some actual pain medicine, too?”

(The only pain medicine I’ve received at ALL has been two doses of Fentanyl administered by the paramedics, an hour ago. Fentanyl at the dose I was given lasts 20 minutes, tops.)

Nurse: “Look: you won’t remember, and you won’t feel anything. The only time you might feel something is if I pricked you with a pin, or something!” *he says this as though he’s a genius for thinking of this persuasive argument*

Me: “You mean like the kind of pain I’d feel if someone was moving around my dislocated ankle?!”

(I remembered everything. They also acted like they were doing me a massive favor in keeping me overnight instead of sending me home with three broken bones before surgery the next day. I finally got pain medicine six hours later at the room they begrudgingly gave me, and the call button didn’t work! I had to call my own room phone number with my cell phone and let it ring until a nurse came, because I couldn’t find the nurse’s station phone number!)