brace yourself... (pt III)

I’m not exactly sure why there always seemed to be a large gap in time between my doctor’s visits. It didn’t appear to me that it was that busy in the emergency room. I didn’t see many doctors rushing to anyone around me. It was a really chilled atmosphere.

When my doctor finally emerged, he arrived with another ultimatum. He proclaimed that he had arranged the help of an orthopedic surgeon to come put my knee back in place. The orthopedic surgeon however, came with strings attatched. According to my doctor he would not touch my knee unless an x-ray was performed. My doctor went on to say that every person in the emergency room had to have x-rays done before any treatment. I really question this, what if I cut myself and needed stitches? Would they x-ray that? what would you look for, the knife? Yet my doctor remained steadfast that ALL patients were required to have an x-ray.

After another set of painkillers I agreed to the x-ray. I did however get the doctor to agree to some of my terms; He agreed not to allow the x-ray tech to touch my leg. They would instead move the x-ray machine to achieve the desired side angles (why couldn't they have done this from the start?). I returned to the x-ray waiting line, I can remember it this time.

My little posse followed me, like they did my entire stay at the hospital. I was so thankful to have them around. I was not really happy that i'd been in the hospital for three hours, but hey, I had a great group of people with me. They were able to keep me calm, and I could vent my frustrations with them. I felt like I was a textbook, they agreed. They would stand by and watch as a myriad of doctors would walk up to me grab my leg, and touch my floating kneecap. I would cringe and growl at the curious doctors like a rabid animal. They would stare down the doctor as i would curse up a storm. It seemed like the doctors didn’t get it. If you touch my knee, i'm going to scream and yell, it was simple. My friends stood by powerlessly as these doctors always reached for my knee. One doctor even took photos of it. It's not like i could move away, i just tried to make my kneecap smile, while my friends glared at the doctor.

My journey to see the orthopedic surgeon was something out of the wizard of oz. They wheeled me into this back room filled with people in green scrubs. I swear the room even had a green tinge to it (I was also high on several shots of pain medication and that half syringe full of morphine, so i could have been imagining things). I entered the green room with only my translator friend, my entourage was asked to remain outside as they closed the door behind me.

I felt really happy and confident that my journey would be over with this doctor. I mean he was a guy who performed knee operations! However, I blindly put my faith in this doctor, much like Dorothy, the lion, the scarecrow, and the tinman did with the wizard. This 'specialized' doctor didn't fare much better than the wizard. The second (overall) attempt to put my knee back in ended as the other did, I screamed louder than I’ve ever screamed in my life. I was screaming at him to stop, I was pleading for the endevour to be over. After the attempt failed, I was pleading with the doctors to put me under, to knock me out, I couldn’t handle it anymore, I didn’t care how they got the knee back in. I just did not want to be awake for the process.

The doctors would not listen to me, they didn't give in. They instead came up with an alternative. They would get a towel and put it over my eyes, I didn't really like the plan. I wasn't watching them anyway, and it was not the reason I wanted to be knocked out. I was given another shot of painkillers before they started on the third attempt. Seconds before the doctors moved into position, a nurse stuck a rolled up towel in my mouth. I have NO idea why they she did this, I mean I know it was to bite down on, but seriously? I was confused. I didn't have long to think before they started again. This attempt would eventually be successful. I felt relief as the knee slide along its track and back into place. Euphoria rushed over my body and I collapsed on the bed in complete exhaustion. (the photographer doctor kept the camera clicking)

I don't remember much about the hospital after this. I know that my school director wouldn't come and pick me up, and I was told to take a cab home. I've been told that i had another round of x-rays. I remember the makeshift leg immobilizer I was put into. BUT what I remember the most is that the doctors told me NOTHING. They said don't move my knee for a week, don't shower, don't touch their contraption, and goodbye! The lack of pain really allowed the pain killers to knock me out, and not give a shit.

All in all i was in the hospital for 5 hours.

There is some good news that has sprung from this unfortunate event. I have tested the medical system, a large reason for this adventure was to try new things in Asia. I love seeing how things are done differently. I swear i'm trying to write that with a smile on my face...

brace yourself... (pt II)

As the ambulance pulled up to the hospital I was pulling up my shirt to tell my new Korean friend/translator that he had to explain to the hospital that I was missing a spleen and that i had a blood condition. These are the things that kept my mind off of my locationally challenged body part.

Once in the hospital I was whisked down a hallway and onto a hospital bed. Well they didn’t get me right onto the hospital bed. They got me half on, and rested me agaist the bar on the edge of the bed. I made sure I they were aware of this. Once on the bed I realized that the bed was in the middle of a hallway, and that I was surrounded by other patients. I was more or less on display. There were injuries of all types on display in the hallway, I have no idea how I rated amongst the other zoo animals, but I was making noise which always attracts a crowd.

As I was laying in the hallway immobilized a patient came screaming into the hallway. She was hysterical, she was flailing around in her wheelchair attempting to escape. I remember asking my friends to guard my bed. I swore if that lady hit my bed, and made me move and hurt I would rip her arms off, i have no idea how i would achieve this; i just knew i would attempt it. Gladly she kept her hysterics to an enclosed area before the orderlies were able to scoot her into an elevator.

I got my first visit from a doctor in this hallway, I have no idea how long I waited to get this visit, but it was the start of things to come. The doctor approached and saw my leg wrapped in padded foam and asked me where it hurt. I blatently said, "my knee is out, I think my leg hurts". He vanished, I don’t think he returned. I continued to wait. One thing was decided however, i would not be sent into the room the crazy lady came screaming out of. I think this was a smart idea, I don’t know what kind of medicine was practiced in the screaming room.

I was SO relieved when i was finally assigned a doctor, i was moved into a stall and waited. I was anxiously waiting for my knee to be put back in. The process back home had been flawless, painkillers then relief! However, There is a danger when comparing things to the way they are done back home, and I’ve been adamant in my desire to find how things are done differently around the world. I was quite honestly given a taste of my own medicine. Aparently health care systems aren't really all that universal.

My new doctor (who had the same glasses as me, I might add) again asked me where it hurt. Again I thought it was pretty obvious, and gave him the smart ass answer. He then proceeded to touch my toes. He asked me if I could feel my toes, and if so what toe was he touching. I couldn’t believe it. I was sitting with a dislocated knee, and he wanted to play 'this little piggy'. I answered most of his questions incorrectly, I was more or less guessing what toe he was touching, I wasn’t that worried about having a broken back. (I have since learned that nerve damage to the toes can occur through a dislocated knees, I just figure that’s something they would attempt to figure out after the knee is back in).

After I correctly identified that the last little piggy went wee wee wee (all the way home), I wanted to get down business. So I asked the doctor if had ever dealt with a dislocated knee before, he said , "no". I then asked him if he knew the procedure to put a knee back in place, another "no" to which I replied "you’ve got to be kidding me! well go fucking google it! Quickly!" I was asked to calm down and to watch my language. I apologized sincerely, I was really sorry, but I couldn’t believe it. (also in a hospital full of koreans who could understand me anyways)

His remedy for the situation was pain medicine and a half hour wait till I saw him again. When he did return he told me that he would like to x-ray the knee, with the kneecap out. I told him that was stupid, insane, and I wanted the kneecap to return to its home. He said he refused to put the knee back in until he could see through x-ray that it was in fact my kneecap that was out, (maybe the guy thought my leg was broken, I don’t know). He gave me morphine for this, I agreed simply for the pain relief.

I was speedily wheeled away done some hall to radiology. I was given a number to wait in line. I love how Koreans love the number thing. ‘now serving ___’ it creates equality and fairness for everyone. Anywho, my number was called quickly, (actually I have no recollection of this I was WAY to doped up on morphine). I got into the x-ray room, and they wanted to take off the splint I was in (I do remember this!), I told them no fucking way. They should take the x-ray with my knee as is, in the condition it was in. They didn’t like it. Apparently my doctor wanted a photo shoot with my knee. He wanted it to pose in different positions, some profile shots, you know some great smut material. Basically he wanted me to move me knee, to twist it, I cousn't have disagreed more. I would not allow the x-ray tech to touch my leg, I yelled loudly in English, my translator spoke softly in Korean. I felt bad for the x-ray tech I was yelling at him when he was just following orders. I made sure to apologize before i was sent out of radiology. I was ushered back down the hallway to my ER stall.

A half hour after i returned to the ER, the doctor arrived to say he wasn't happy i didn't have an x-ray. I informed him that I wasn’t a fucking textbook, and that I would love my knee back where it belongs. I felt that the more I told him where I wanted the knee, the more he would understand how badly I wanted it there, i hoped he would eventually get what i wanted. I continued to apologize for anything and everything I said, i just wanted relief.

I don’t actually remember the first attempt to put the knee back in place. It barely registers in my mind. My doctor tried to push the knee back in, in the position I was in. He walked away after I screamed repeatedly for him to stop. One of my friends asked him what was next? What would he do?

He replied ‘well we tried once, it didn’t work. We will try again, and if that doesn’t work we will call more doctors”

brace yourself... (pt I)

Saturday was supposed to be a dream day. Volleyball and a return to anyang for perogies. Well I was only able to complete one of those tasks and, yet again I was refrained from having perogies. I think that something is seriously wrong with me and those perogies, whenever i do get to eat those bastards they better be the best damn potato mandu (previous blog post reference) I've ever had.

Anywho, volleyball was supposed to start around 1:30. Several locational issues arose on the way there which prevented the start, and pushed back the end time.. wow that's just not needed, i should be less wordy.. SO we simply got lost on our way there.. It was hot, sticky, and Callie kept asking Koreans which direction the Han river was, they all repliede with blank expressions. I find it funny, it's not like Callie mispronounced anything, she said it perfectly. It must just shock them that weiguks can speak some Korean.

Everything went well. The day was really good. I suck at volleyball, but my height and lankyness help to make up for what I lack in actual skill. If I was short and stubby I wouldn’t be allowed on the court. At around 5pm, I raced to get the ball to the other side of the net, I successfully volleyed it. I gazed at my shot like a piece of art while i was falling down in the sand. My left knee got caught in the guide wire holding up the net post. My gaze was rudely interupted as my body quickly jerked to the left, with my foot planted firmly the other direction. The torque was enough to dislodge my knee, I heard a loud pop, and felt my leg go numb.

I instantly recognized this pain. I’d experienced it twice before. Lets flash back 11 years shall we, to  the game I was named captain of my hockey team, a game in Drumheller, Alberta. Sometime during one of the three periods, probably the first or third considering where the bench was, and that i was close the zamboni doors (wait, you don't care abou that level of detail). Lets use less then. There was a short pushing match in my zone, I slipped and hit the ice on the my stomach, and I couldn’t get up. Despite  all my efforts I could not get up, and my leg was screaming in pain. I slammed my stick on the ice to alarm my goalie, Calvin, that I was in trouble. I remember the assistant coach, Kevin Wilson, reaching to feel my left knee. I will never forget the words he told the coach and my father, ‘yep, its definitely out’ all I could think about was what? What the fuck is out? I didn’t know anything could be out on a leg.

I was rushed out of the arena through the tacky dinosaur mouth painted on the side of the building. Within minutes of being in the hospital, the doctor had given me pain meds, and  in one swift movement he flipped me onto my back and slid my knee into position. It was probably a thing of beauty to watch if you were a medical professional, I sreamed the whole time. I was sent home with a full leg brace. I would call that leg brace my friend for what I remember to be an eternity. I was given the elevator key at school though. I was cool while i had that key, i was not niave though. I was well aware my time would only last as long as my leg remained immobile. It took two months of rehab before I played another game. And one year later I would return to an emergency room.

This time I was truly playing in the boonies. I was playing in Standard Alberta, about an hour from everywhere. The town was big enough for a grain silo, a corner store and a hockey rink. I had just made a play up ice with the puck and took a sharp turn to my left when my leg gave out. I remembered the feeling. It was almost exactly one year to the day that I felt it last. I was smarter this time. I made sure I fell on my back. It took an hour and a half for the ambulance to arrive. I squirmed in pain on the floor of a vacant dressing room. I studied the walls and ceiling of that room for so long that I can remember the layout and and colour scheme. Once I arrived in the hospital I was quickly visited by the docter.

He made quick work of my equipment, he cut up another set of laces, and another sock. He quickly had my knee brace off (the one that was supposed to stop my knee from going out in the first place), and with a quick shot of pain medication. My knee was propelled back into position. I have been told that I requested nothing more than JD to help take away the pain. I’d like to believe I’ve been sarcastic my whole life.

My rehab for my second blown knee had taken FAR less time. I was on the ice within two weeks and playing again within three. I was given a referral to an alternative medicine clinic in Calgary. The doctors name was Dr. Doug Battershill, an ex CFL (Canadian Football) player. He believed that diet and mobility was the way to combat this injury, and I believe him. He was extreme, yet it worked. My knee was extremely strong for 10 years.

I’d like to think that my knee was still strong on Saturday and that the torque I threw on it would have taken even a healthy knee out.

These memories quickly flooded back into my mind as I lay sprawled out with a mouthful of sand last Saturday. I was desperately trying to push the kneecap back into place before my friends advised me the ambulance was on its way. I sat back and tried to relax. The Ambulance ride was unbearable, I screamed almost the entire way, every ten seconds or so the ambulance would lurch a different direction after hitting a bump. All I could think about was that the roads in this country are shit. My uncle could make a killing selling them the required material to correct them. To end part I on a good note, for the first time EVER I was able to hear the ambulance siren. Sadly it was drowned out with screams every couple of seconds.