something to be thankle for...

so-

tomorrow marks the month annie of when my ankle was crushed by a freight truck. i just looked at a calendar. it's not a month. it's the start of the 4th week.

shit.

well... here's what happened and shit.

i was at prince & elizabeth a lil late for work. i rode this path to work at least 1000 times and that could be a low estimate... round the bowery on prince and roll by habana and peek to see who's working there. they're all new faces. no one i really know anymore. me and a freight truck were about to cross elizabeth. it was a big ol' truck and the driver couldn't see me out the passenger window. probably in his blind spot. anushow, it's like i thought we was both going straight but he makes a right...

shit.

the way these big ass trucks move is they start wide and then the back of the truck swings round right quick. the next couple things happened frighteningly quick. i've hotdogged on my bmxican for 7 years now and i think i can get out of any predic.... maybe not this time though. the truck clips me and knocks me off my bike. i look down and see my legs about to be smashed and i pull them up and i don't know what happened next.

i heard screaming and then a women ran up to me and said to you need an ambulance? i felt like i might not- wasn't really in any pain but then i looked at my foot which felt cold it was twisted in a way that didn't look cold. the rest of me was fine. i took off my sunglasses and thought how smart i was that is the year i was going to stop painting my toenails.

you know. because i'm 36 and all...

the driver probably didn't even feel my ankle, but he stoppedand got out and was entirely apologetic. he was a good dude...

the ambulance came and then the shock started to wear off, the reality began to set in as did the pain. it didn't help that ambulances don't have any shocks on new york potholes.

i get to the ER. and the pain is beginning to mount. right before i roll up in the queue, some dude that looks like he just got shot as his shirt is completely soaked in blood. they come up to me and ask me what my pain is on a scale of 1-10. i hate that question. what's 1 and what's 10? i'm in pain, but it's not like i got shot- but gimme some fucking meds please...

anyways... it takes two hours beforei get my first norco. they then take x-rays and inform me it's going to hurt like a bitch, but it's not that bad. the results of the x-ray come out and then they apologize and give me morphine. it's a pretty horrible fracture. shattered on the inside, the back is broken, and the outside is broken.

ugh. the orthopaedists come in. two of 'em... i'm like can i walk again or dance again? they say, i'll be able to walk, dancing doesn't seem like it wi- "hooold up a sec, let's not get ahead of ourselves" says the cocky one. "let's just saay it'll never be the same again" with a wink. they then inject my foot with lanacane give me another shot of morhpine in my IV and then one hugs my leg and i'm woindering what's going on. "you trying to hump my leg?, you a poodle in your spare time?" then the cocky one grabs my foot. i scream pretty audibly and grab a handful of the leg fetishists belly fat" they're trying to set my foot as it's dislocated. i feel it click into place. i laugh and say "jesus, that shit was burly" and then watch my foot flop over. so.. they repeat this about 5 times until they get it right. up until this moment i was surprisinly composed. this shit however was otherworldish pain...

he then asked my why it hurt when he squeezed my foot. i was like "cuz it got run over by a freight truck" he squeezed my tow and i yelped in agony. he said "that hurts?" i'm like yes. i guess he doesn't believe me because he squeezes it at least 3 more times and says "really?" idiot.

i proceed to get a CT scan and it turns out i got 8 broken bones in my foot that he was squeezing to a pulp to set my ankle.

the next couple hours are just waiting and waiting. i keep asking for more meds because it's boring and i might as well get high.

daddy comes into the ER and helps me out. i'm thankful for him being there even though i felt i didn't need him. but he helped out a lot actually. he'll get compensated in life.

they release me 9 hours after i was admitted. 7 of which was just waiting around. they release me not before they tell me that if my ankle hurts a lot i may have compartment syndrome which is where pressure in the affected area gets so high post injury that there is lack of oxygen and the never tissue gets damaged so much that they have to amputate. what the fuck does that mean?!?!?! if my ankle hurts so much after it's run over by a truck, let us know. what's a 10 on a scale of 1-10?

they smile and say thanks for being so "paitient!"

very funny.