Three feet--that's all it was, just three feet off of the ground. For most people, jumping off of a bleacher three feet high would maybe cause a little pain in the ankles, which is what I was expecting, but what happened instead was one of the most excruciatingly painful experiences of my life.
I was watching Lucy's T-ball game on a Saturday, just a couple of weeks ago, back when everything was normal. It was early, and she was not being very cooperative. She didn't want to play. I'd already given her a couple of stern talking-tos. But when she refused to play catcher because the helmet was hurting her head, I had, had enough. I was about to go give her what for. I was sitting on the top row of the bleachers, walked down a few steps and thought, "I can make it from here." After all, there were people sitting along the bottom portion, and there was really no reason to make them get up.
I've always gotten pain in my ankles when I jump from higher than about a foot. Even when I was a little kid, this was a common occurrence. But that's not what happened. As soon as I landed, I knew something was wrong. My right knee seemed to slide several inches to the right, out of socket. I fell to the ground in pain. By the time I landed, it seemed to have gone back into place. I didn't even open my eyes to see who the kind people who had come to my aid were, but they assured me it was in it's socket. Nevertheless, the pain was almost intolerable, and I knew there was no way I was going to be walking out of there.
A lot of people ran over to help. One of them brought a chair, someone went to get ice. I'm not exactly sure what was going on around me. I was crying--more out of embarrassment than actual pain, if I'm honest. I imagined all four games had stopped so that people could gawk at me. I kept my eyes closed and my head in my hands as my husband tried to figure out how to get me out of there. I refused an ambulance. When I finally did open my eyes, I realized the games had continued and hardly anyone was even paying attention, though the people who were only did so because they were trying to help. Eventually, the commissioner gave Brian permission to drive his truck up to where I still sat, now in a chair, a few feet away from the bleachers, still crying, still hiding my face. Imma sat next to me on the ground as Brian ran off to get his truck, asking me the same questions I was asking myself. "What happened, Mommy? Why did you jump? What happened to your knee? Are you okay? WHY DID YOU DO THAT?"
I wish I had an answer. It seemed pretty simple; hop off the bleachers, go talk to Lu, straighten her out, come back and watch the game. Oh, then, after the game was over we had plans to stop at the doughnut shop on the way home before I had a full day of house cleaning and laundry to tend to. Later, I would probably watch a movie with the girls. Very few of those things happened. We did watch a movie--much later.
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| These are the exact bleachers I jumped from--third row up. Doesn't look that far, does it? |
It took a couple of people to get me up into Brian's truck. My knee was swollen and painful. I couldn't put any weight on it. Once I was finally in, he went off to get Lucy, who had no idea what was happening just a few yards away. Then, we were all off to the emergency room as I continued to cry and apologize, and my family assured me it was fine and I had nothing to apologize for.
As we rode along the fifteen or so miles to the closest hospital I cared to go to, all kinds of thoughts played through my mind. Was my kneecap dislocated? Did I break something? Would I need surgery? How quickly could I walk again? Could I drive? I had no idea about any of those things. The pain was bad, but it wasn't excruciating anymore. I began to think maybe it was nothing at all. Maybe I was just a big baby. But, on the other hand, I knew I couldn't walk.
When we finally arrived at the emergency room, a nurse came out with a wheelchair to collect me, and then there was a lot of explaining what had happened to several different people. Eventually, I was wheeled into a room and saw a few other people, explained again, and asked for something for the pain which was promised but not delivered for a really long time. The X-ray technician was very sweet, but insisted I do a lot of things I couldn't do with my knee without causing severe pain, but I did them anyway. Shortly after she left, my knee went into spasm. It shook and jerked around off and on for at least ten minutes. By the time the doctor came in, it had stopped. When she went to examine it, my pain had subsided quite a bit, from about a seven to a four, and I could actually bend it as much as she wanted me to. Once again, I thought maybe I was fine.
She looked at the X-rays and told me I hadn't broken any bones, but she couldn't see anything else--tendons, ligaments, etc. She said it could be something as simple as a sprained tendon, or I could have torn my ACL. I was pretty sure that wasn't the case. Wouldn't I be writhing around in pain if it were? She gave me a knee immobilizer, some crutches, some pain medicine (at last) and told me to stay off of it for a week. If it still hurt after that, I should see an ortho.
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| I learned pretty quickly that crutches are not my thing. |
Brian wheeled me out to the truck, and after some acrobatics, I was able to get into the truck, and eventually, home. Getting into the house was also a feat I still question. Before too long, I was on my couch, still unsure of what was wrong or how long it would take to fix.
I was hopeful that I would be walking again soon, but even the smallest amount of weight was not only terrifying, it was painful. So a few days later, I went to see Dr. Johnson, an ortho. After a close inspection, he said he couldn't really tell what was wrong and listed all of the possibilities I had already read about online. He recommended an MRI. He suggested I stay off of it and even wrote a note that I couldn't stand at work. I would see him again as soon as the MRI was back.
Two days later, I went to get my MRI. I'd never had one before and was a little worried. The place I went to, Preferred Imaging in Plano, was in a strip mall, which was a little scary to me. But as soon as I rolled into the waiting room, I knew it was a reputable place. It looked like a spa. And while the experience of the MRI was not fun to say the least, the people were very nice, which made it better.
Imma had an MRI once last year when she was very sick and we didn't know what was wrong, so I'd seen a machine before, but hers was open and this was not. I was relieved to find out I would only be in the machine from the waist down. Just getting on the bed, however, was challenging. The technician was very helpful, and before I knew it, I was laying on my back with my legs in a machine, headphones on to help drown out the loud jackhammering noise of the machine, trying not to move. Have you ever been in a situation where you are not allowed to move a muscle? It's extremely difficult. The more I told my knee to stay still, the more it wanted to move. There were several times when it went into involuntary spasm, probably because it had to stay straighter than it had been in a few days. I apologized to the tech for moving, but she understood that there was nothing I could do about it. In about thirty minutes, it was over, and my husband wheeled me back to the car, DVD for the doctor in hand. This would tell us what was wrong with my knee.
I couldn't get in to see Dr. Johnson again for a few days. By then, I thought I was getting really good at using the walker he had recommended. In fact, I was now able to put a bit of weight on my injured right leg. I was doing just that in order to hop out the door on my way to visit Dr. Johnson one morning when I heard another pop and instantly felt like I was going to throw up; I'd done it again. Brian brought me a chair, and I sunk down into it. I had hardly put any weight on my leg at all, but it was enough. The pain was excruciating, worse than the original injury. I felt like the last week of trials had been for nothing, and I was right back where I'd started.
Dr. Johnson didn't seem too concerned about this most recent injury, and I wasn't sure why. He examined my knee again, nodding the whole time, and then explained what he had seen on the MRI. I had torn my ACL, my meniscus, bruised my bones, and stretched the tendon that runs down the inside of my knee. He said he wanted the soft tissue to heal before he decided what to do about the ACL and meniscus, and that he wanted to see me again in four weeks to decide whether or not I needed surgery. In the meantime, he recommended some stretching exercises, gave me some new pain medicine, and told me to stay off of it.
That was five days ago. Since then, I haven't hurt myself again, but I also haven't done much of anything. My biggest fear is that I will reinjure myself again and have to start all over. I'm avoiding that at all cost because this way of life really, really stinks.
If you've never been in a position before where you couldn't walk, you probably can't imagine what it's like, not really. I have a new appreciation for people who are permanently in this situation. I feel like I've always been understanding when it comes to people with mobility issues. After all, my grandmother whom I loved dearly, was born with two clubbed feet which limited her mobility for much of her life. I have a new understanding for what she went through now as well. I feel extremely lucky that this is temporary for me, but I also want to explain what this new situation is like for those of you who may not know and haven't put much thought into it. I know I hadn't really thought about it before, and I definitely took my ability to walk for granted. So, here's what it's like for me now.
My knee hurts most of the time, but that's not the biggest problem. I can't get up to do anything. There's no more jumping up to grab something, reaching things in high places, taking a step to drop something in the trash can. I can't go upstairs at my house, so I can't tuck my girls in or even pick out their clothes from their closets. I don't usually cook, but if I did, I wouldn't be able to reach the back burners. I have to be super careful around my dogs because they could jump up on my knee. I can't get in my laundry room, so I can't help there. I can do a little bit in the kitchen but not much. Taking a shower was a nightmare until Brian got me a special shower bench that actually goes out of the shower, and it's still not fun, but at least I likely won't get trapped in the shower again like I did a few nights ago--for an hour--because I couldn't get my good leg under me well enough to stand up. For the most part, my husband has to do everything around the house while taking care of me and the girls.
If I have to go to the bathroom, it's an ordeal that will take at least ten minutes, even if I'm close to a bathroom. I won't go into too much detail, but for example, if I have to go to the bathroom at work, there's really no one to help me. Maybe someone will open the door for me, but that's about it. There are bars on the wall, which help, but I have to wheel over, lock my chair, pull myself up, balance on one foot while I prepare to transfer to the toilet, take care of my business, and then, guess what--you need your knees to be pretty flexible to do some of the other things required before you're ready to hoist yourself up, balance on one leg while making yourself presentable, hopping/pivoting back to the wheelchair, etc. Luckily, it's easier to open the bathroom door to get out.
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| I didn't expect to end up in one of these for another fifty years or so. At least it's temporary! |
Probably the worst part of all, however, is the fact that I can't drive. I injured my right leg, and as of right now, I don't have the confidence in my ability to move it far enough or fast enough to go from the gas to the break. So Brian has to get up extra early to drive us an hour to school and then drive another forty-five minutes or so to his work and reverse the process in the evening. We have to stay at school until Brian gets off of work, which means an extra two hours of my girls' lives being sucked away each evening. This accident has definitely impacted the rest of my family.
I'm not sure how much longer I'll be in a chair. I'm hopeful I'll be able to put some weight on my leg once this tendon heals as I've read lots of stories from people with an ACL injury who could walk with a brace. Even the smallest amount of pressure on my leg hurts, and the last thing I want to do is start over again.
I go back to the doctor in about three weeks. I'm expecting I'll need a new MRI. He said it may be an additional four week after that before he knows whether or not he will recommend surgery. A lot of people are saying they can't believe he won't just schedule it, but I guess some new studies done in the past few years show that about 50% of ACL injuries don't require surgery, especially in older people who are not athletes. I think that includes me, but I am not optimistic. I expect I will need surgery, which could mean another 12 weeks of recovery after that.
I could still be struggling with this at the beginning of next school year.
There have been a lot of tragedies close to home lately, and this is not one of them. As I watch the news reports about a teacher from our town whose husband and two children were killed in a horrific accident, I am reminded that my life could be much, much worse. This blog post is not at all an attempt to gain sympathy, but there are a few things I would like for everyone to take away from it. First of all, don't take things for granted. You could lose what you have in the blink of an eye. Secondly, be kind to others who may need your help. Try your best to put yourself in the position of others whenever possible. You never know when you might end up where they are.
My family could really use your prayers and well-wishes over the next few weeks as I continue to be immobile and my family continues to fill in the gaps. I greatly appreciate everyone who has helped us out so far; even going out of your way to hold the door open for me is much appreciated. I especially want to thank my sweet friend Sidney who brought her wheelchair over for me on day three. Without it, things would be so much more difficult. You are a blessing, my friend, and I'm so glad God brought you in to my life! My co-workers and students have been incredibly helpful as well. Of course, my husband and children have been amazing, and specific prayers for their strength and patience are much appreciated.
If you've read this long, thank you for your dedication! I will try to keep this updated on our status. If there's one thing I can still do, it's write! So I intend to do so! If you can, do a little dance for me today, and thank your knees. They're more important than you may realize.
