A Simple Fall
2004-07-05
April 22, while working on my shop in the backyard, I fell off a ladder (second rung) and broke my leg. Initially I was a little stunned and rolled myself into a sitting position against the shop wall. Didn’t feel to bad, a little disoriented maybe, until I looked at the end of my leg and hmm, a foot seemed to be missing. Confused I sat up a little straighter leaned to my left and saw a bone protruding from the end of the leg and the foot lying on the ground at a 90 degree angle to the leg. This got my attention.
I wasn’t in much pain. I hollered for Bobbie (thank heaven she was home) and she came running out. By her own acknowledgement Bobbie’s not at her best in the presence of stuff like blood and protruding bones. When she saw the leg and foot I was afraid she’d faint. I told her I was hurt (like she didn’t know) and needed to get to a hospital. She quickly recovered, put on a serious look and ran back into the house to get the truck keys.
Meanwhile I dragged myself over to the truck. My foot followed like a sad puppy on a leash. Somehow I got into the truck in and away we drove. By this time I was beginning to feel some serious pain. Lying down on the seat I tried to immobilize my foot. Bobbie tells me she drove like a person possessed. It was 5:00PM so traffic was heavy. I didn’t see or remember much but she recounts driving on sidewalks, over medians and through and around anything in her path. We got to St. Mary’s in a short time (it seemed like three weeks to me). She was my hero and my savior. By this time I was slipping into shock. My recollection of what happened next isn’t clear but I believe a flock of angels in the guise of EMT’s, nurses and doctors descended upon me, made the pain go away and all was well.
Now I know some of you are reading this and thinking, what were they thinking? They didn’t call 911? They risked further injury by driving to the hospital? Yes we did. We were stupid and lucky. If there’s ever a next time I hope we have the presence of mind to take a deep breath, clear our heads and call 911.
But the real story is how Sleepy Hollow responded to my accident. In our time of need this neighborhood showed us its true character. I couldn’t possibly thank everyone by name here, but I was overwhelmed by how many of you emailed, sent cards, called, visited, and brought food. Oh how you brought food. It’s interesting. Many years ago I moved from Utah to Massachusetts and met Bobbie and her family and entered a period of adjusting to Italian culture. But for all the differences in these cultures there were some consistent threads, one of which was that both grieve death with lots of food. When I got home from the hospital there was so much food the suspicion grew that I’d died, not broken a leg.
I wasn’t in much pain. I hollered for Bobbie (thank heaven she was home) and she came running out. By her own acknowledgement Bobbie’s not at her best in the presence of stuff like blood and protruding bones. When she saw the leg and foot I was afraid she’d faint. I told her I was hurt (like she didn’t know) and needed to get to a hospital. She quickly recovered, put on a serious look and ran back into the house to get the truck keys.
Meanwhile I dragged myself over to the truck. My foot followed like a sad puppy on a leash. Somehow I got into the truck in and away we drove. By this time I was beginning to feel some serious pain. Lying down on the seat I tried to immobilize my foot. Bobbie tells me she drove like a person possessed. It was 5:00PM so traffic was heavy. I didn’t see or remember much but she recounts driving on sidewalks, over medians and through and around anything in her path. We got to St. Mary’s in a short time (it seemed like three weeks to me). She was my hero and my savior. By this time I was slipping into shock. My recollection of what happened next isn’t clear but I believe a flock of angels in the guise of EMT’s, nurses and doctors descended upon me, made the pain go away and all was well.
Now I know some of you are reading this and thinking, what were they thinking? They didn’t call 911? They risked further injury by driving to the hospital? Yes we did. We were stupid and lucky. If there’s ever a next time I hope we have the presence of mind to take a deep breath, clear our heads and call 911.
But the real story is how Sleepy Hollow responded to my accident. In our time of need this neighborhood showed us its true character. I couldn’t possibly thank everyone by name here, but I was overwhelmed by how many of you emailed, sent cards, called, visited, and brought food. Oh how you brought food. It’s interesting. Many years ago I moved from Utah to Massachusetts and met Bobbie and her family and entered a period of adjusting to Italian culture. But for all the differences in these cultures there were some consistent threads, one of which was that both grieve death with lots of food. When I got home from the hospital there was so much food the suspicion grew that I’d died, not broken a leg.
