Broken, Part 1

I don't know where to start... I've been disseminating information across the Internet for the past hour, while trying to catch up with a near-week of missed news, to the effect of the fact that I broke my leg, and am not feeling too chipper as a result.

I don't know where to start here.... I've practically honed my story to simple a form as possible, so sick am I of telling it, and due also to a general lack of energy. I don't have the desire--at all--to write anywhere but here right now. Just writing it three times or so has been enough to wear me out. But I do want to put it here, and in the fullest of detail as possible. Unlike everywhere else, although this blog is read by others, it's here for MY enjoyment, whereas everywhere I'm primarily around for the benefit of others.

I want to analyze the situation, if I can. It's not so much the particulars in fair and equal treatment that I want to recall, though some will be, as the impressions and reflections it prompts.

The leg-breaking happened fast. So fast. One moment I was joking, preparing to argue about the bill, and looking forward to lunch, and possibly a long afternoon. I was with a classmate, Sierra, having written our Religion final somewhat before. We had sort been wandering Edmonton, in search of a place to have lunch (a few presented themselves, but for various "reason" none were stopped at). It was a good time, and it's a shame, I feel, that last Saturday wasn't able to have been the enjoyable, peaceful end of a semester it was supposed to have been.

We had finally settled on a place to eat, after about an hour of driving, and we got out of the car, and were heading across the parking lot towards the sidewalk. The obvious shortcut led across a patch of grass, the edge of which was a strip of mud. Rather than go through the mud, I made the decision--the fatal decision--to jump the mud.

Bad. Bad. Bad! decision.

I didn't quite make it.

My left leg did, landing solidly on the cement, even as my right leg landed on the mud, and went forwards, taking the rest of my body earthwards. Of course, that meant trouble for my left leg, grounded on the cement. It snapped under the pressure, and I was in pain. But the pain then was nothing to when I tried to move it. I only really looked at my leg once at this point, but the sight was brain-scarring, my lower leg flopping sideways unnaturally. I lowered myself as I could to the pavement, and lay in pain and cold as Sierra called 911, and a crowd gathered around.

The ambulance came after fifteen minutes, and then began the whole, painful adventure of being taken to the Royal Alexandra Hospital, of my leg being put into a slab, of being poked and prodded more times than I can count in the ER as they tried to find a place for an intravenous and to draw blood for testing. Then came the X-rays, the hospital food, the painkillers, the new plaster slab, the first night, the long, lonely sojourn through pain that was Sunday, the surgery Sunday afternoon/evening, the coming out of surgery nausea, the slow recovery from post-ops and the long night of Hell between Monday and Tuesday, as I drowned in the heat and stink of my own sweat. There was the getting used to crutches, the exhaustion of laying in bed and the great exhaustion of leaving it, the up and down emotions of day and night, and finally the marathon day of Wednesday, yesterday, when I came home to the Seminary, just in time to push myself into attending the end-of-term banquet, and finally going to bed last night, probably having pushed myself too hard.

That's the basic story, synopsized somewhat after the actual incident. The breaking of the leg was a fast occurrence, and very mundane. Several people have said, and I would agree but for my unsurmountable honest streak, that I really need to spice it up somewhat. About the closest one gets to a spicy detail is the fact that I, a seminarian, was with a--get this!--girl! Which isn't fair to Sierra, since her presence really had nothing to do with the broken leg. Boring as the story is, it's my fault in all the apparent details that I can see.

More coming in Part 2... if my butt holds up. The poor posterior hasn't taken well to sitting in the same position for so long, and my stamina isn't where it could be.