Update

I got my stitches out yesterday, and found out that the funky stitching was not the work of a poorly trained resident but was rather the complicated "trauma stitch." They're supposed to be easier to remove, but it hurt like heck. Oh well, they're out now. I get two more weeks with the rods, then the doctor will decide whether to move to a cast or a walking boot. I've heard nasty things about walking boots. I already have pain in my knee and hip from compensating for the injured foot, and I can't imagine a boot will help much. Input? Suggestions?

Today was another lazy day. Right now I'm not-really-watching the news and finishing off a pint of gelato brought to me by a generous friend. Dark chocolate and lavender-honey. I normally don't like flower-flavored food, but this is divine. It doesn't taste like soap or air freshener, just a subtle fresh flavor that happens to balance out the dark chocolate perfectly. If you're local, this can be found at Dolcetti in the Avenues. I assume they'd carry the same flavors at the 9th & 9th location.

America's Birthday

Yesterday we celebrated the 4th in typical mellow style. And just as typically, I don't have any pictures. Sorry. James and Atticus went to the ward breakfast while I stayed home and slept. Atticus had a lot of fun and didn't want to leave, even after most everyone was gone. Except that one of the few stragglers was his friend Afton. Her mom thinks they're such good friends because Atticus is an older, male version of Afton. They're the kind of kids who like to randomly shout out made-up words and laugh. That reminded James of the time Atticus decided to call him "Dr. Poop Suzie." Atticus thought it was the funniest thing in the world.

Last night our friends Sharon and Larry had a party. (I like to call them "ShaLar", which is probably funny only to me and Susan, who lived in the ShaLar apartments.) Friends, homemade ice cream, sparklers and fountain rockets. Most of the kids left early, so Atticus was the only kid left for fireworks. He was soooo excited. A little scared of the sparklers at first, but he got into the swing of things soon enough, keeping up a steady chant of YEA YEA YEA YEA YEA YEA YEA! And then clapping after each round.

By the end of the night my leg was getting pretty sore, and we came home and all fell into bed. Slept in until 9:00, and to be honest, I haven't gotten out of bed yet (it's 1:20). I told James I felt a little guilty for being so lazy, and he just told me to take a look at my leg. I can live with that. Outside is a gentle rain, the windows are open. Atticus is singing a song he made up. Today is a good day.

The gory pictures

I don't have a copy of my x-rays, so I'll try my best to describe what happened to my ankle. We're still trying to figure out how exactly it happened, but it appears that my foot moved and my ankle didn't. The tibia (the big bone) didn't break but got dislocated and broke through the skin. That's what I saw when I looked down at my leg in the accident. There was surprisingly little blood. I guess none of the major vessels were damaged. All sorts of ligaments, however, and possibly some tendons got damaged in the process, and the lower part of my fibula (the small bone) pretty much shattered. It also broke in a couple places higher up, but those breaks are in good alignment and don't need further support. On Thursday I felt that higher break go "pop" and had more pain there, so on Friday we went in to have it checked it out.

They took x-rays that looked fine, but my dressings were pretty grody, so she changed them. This was my first good look at the contraption holding my leg together, officially called an "external fixator." James likes to call it the Eiffel Tower. One night as my meds were wearing off, I was confused to have a pinching pain in my shin. Then I remembered that I have a screw in my shinbone. Oh yeah.

The stitches that go across the front of my leg are the original wound. I didn't look too closely at the time, but it seems bigger than I expected. Maybe they opened it further during surgery.

 Yes, that's a rod going through my heel bone. And yes, I do feel like a kebab.

This is where they cut me open to put a plate and a bunch of pins to hold my shattered fibula together. I have to say this is the messiest incision/stitches I've ever seen. I hope it's not an indication of the surgeon's overall skill. I'm not impressed with his general demeanor and customer service. But I'll take what I can get.

And here's what I get to look at for the next little while. I have an appointment Friday to have the stitches removed and to determine when the rods come out. The next step is a cast, and then maybe a boot. The physical therapist said today that it might be three months before I can put enough weight on the ankle to walk on it. I should be able to drive again when I'm no longer taking narcotic pain meds, and once I get a cast I can get a knee scooter that will allow me to be more mobile.

This ankle will always be stiff and prone to soreness. I will never be a runner or a ballerina. But I will be able to hike and bike and do all the other normal things I want to do. I think I'll start with water aerobics. Maybe around Christmas. That reminds me--our handicapped parking pass expires on Christmas, so let me know if you want a good parking spot at the mall. We'll give you a lift. :)

Surreality

James and Atticus stuck around for a while after the ambulance took me away. (The had to wait for the police to be done before they could get a ride.) The force of the crash knocked one of Atticus's shoes off, and James couldn't find his hat or glasses for half an hour. The Luke Skywalker figure Atticus was holding lost his head, which we've still not found. 

They sedated me to set and splint my leg. Everything was a bit fuzzy after that. I came to while getting a CAT scan The cervical collar was a lot more uncomfortable than the contraption on my leg. (More leg contraption photos to come.)

They kept me pretty well drugged up for the first couple days. Man, I love morphine. I'd have intense dreams as I drifted in and out of consciousness in which this whole situation was part of some greater plot or operation. I'd never remember the details, but I had a sense of importance. At one point I "drunk-texted" James (on opiates and with double vision): "I keep forgetting what I'm doing here and wh3 whenwdid I start drikiu?" I sent him a photo of my bruised chest with the message: "I figured as long as I'm drunk texting--please confirm the following: I am the only known operative in gntne ... in the hospital at this time."

It took a while for that feeling to pass. Sometimes I still wonder.

James walked away with relatively minor injuries, with abrasions and chemical burns from the airbags on his hands and massive bruising from the seat belt. I still have a hard bruise ridge across my belly from the seat belt, too, but I must say it's much better than the alternative.

These photos still blow me away. James and Atticus went to get the last of our belongings from our car (still no sign of Luke's head), and the car looks even more surreal out of the context of the accident. But this last picture will make me a Subaru owner for life: as messed up as the engine block is, all damage ends where the passenger cabin starts. This car saved our lives. 

I can hardly bear to consider how differently this whole situation could have ended. It keeps me from feeling too sorry for myself.

What my summer blog posts were supposed to look like

Here are some fun things we did this month and had planned to do frequently.

Grilling!

Laughing together outside!

Let Atticus get soaked to the skin in the sprinklers

Visit local destinations like the Kennecott copper mine 

Hike the beautiful trails just minutes from our door

Ward campout and music with friends 

Climb lots of rocks

Enjoy beautiful mountain lakes

And then last Wednesday a lot of that changed. We were on our way up Big Cottonwood Canyon to venture out on another beautiful hike to another beautiful lake (Twin Lakes by Brighton). About a mile up the canyon, we started around a corner and saw a large truck in our lane. Less than a second later, the scene looked much like this:

My first thoughts were inventory: James is talking and moving; no apparent injury. Atticus is freaking out and breathing; no apparent injury. How are we still all alive? How are we this ok? I am breathing and talking, but there's a gaping wound on my ankle and my foot is hanging funny. My leg is broken.

I smell chemical smoke from the airbags, now sagging uselessly. The engine block is hissing, people are yelling. James has taken Atticus to the side of the road. He tells me they're ok and checks out my leg. I call 911. Why is it taking so long to connect? Oh, I forgot to hit "send." Now it's ringing. I tell them what happened. They want an address. An address? We're on the road in Big Cottonwood. Where the hell is there an address? Having reached the limits of my usefulness, I pass the phone to a witness who knows exactly where we are. The other driver comes by several times, freaked out and apologetic. 

Soon paramedics arrive and the next stage of our surreal adventure begins. More on that tomorrow.

My little drummer boy

Click here for video.

In case you missed it...

Here's a better link to Atticus and the Avengers. James got the Hawkeye doll from a crane machine. He has a knack for those things...