The nurses know that you’re helpless and when they try to roll you over and you scream in pain, they just keep pushing you. If you say “I can’t!” they take that as a challenge to their authority.
If you throw up all over yourself and your hair, they yell at you in annoyance. “Why jou dint use the pan!” They cluck their tongue and tie your hair back as tight as they can with a piece of torn latex glove. That’ll teach you.
The instant you hit the pavement, your whole world turns over. You can feel all your organs rearranging inside you like planets.
After six days, the image of a squashed cockroach won’t go away. I’ve just inched across my bed using my arms to support me, dragging my legs together like a broken mermaid. If you move slowly enough, you might be able to avoid the stabbing burst of pain in your groin. The fractured tail-bone is always in play, but the pain from that at least stays where it belongs.
Any sudden noise or unexpected movement sends shock-waves of pain radiating from my pelvis. I jerked when a bottle of water spilled on my bed, and it took hours to move again. “Bones have feelings too,” my physical therapist explained. “It’s only been a week. Your body is still in shock.”
My helplessness only matters to me. No one sees it as a call to duty. My husband plays music in the other room, blasting all the bands I hate. When I call his name, he won’t answer. Finally, I start screaming HELP at the top of my lungs as if I were on fire. Still, he won’t come. Just as I start to cry, he says “What?” He was taking a nap.
What abject misery! I’m so sorry you’re experiencing this plethora of pain. You need help at your place!
I’ll whack those nurses for you.
Sis, I’m distressed to read of your misfortune. Get better soon, but in the meantime, stay pissed off.
Where the Fuh is your pethadine?? Surely a fractured pelvis would get you some of the good stuff?
xx
We’ll be here to cheer you on your road to recoveryxxxxx I don’t feel pain but Yum Yum does, so I’ll taser her in the groin and ask for a report.
Awww, honey, that’s awful! This blog was excruciating to READ, I can’t imagine! Pills. More pills. Sleep. Pills.
I’m so sorry!
What can we do for you Sister W? I feel such concern for you on reading this. I’m really giving you my positive health vibes right now and hoping for you that some good drugs will help with the pain.
How did this happen?
Now I feel bad. I thought you were kidding and were just taking a nice vacation somewhere.
I feel sad for you. Waves of pity are shooting over the Heartland right now. They should reach you by noon your time.
I blame Bush for all of this.
Take your meds! This pain sounds like hell on earth. Straighten up Mr Wolf! I too blame Bush. And Mr. Wolf. My own husband is probably at fault somehow as well. Much love and healing to you dear Sister.
Most of this is in fact the fault of Jools’ husband. Then Bush. I’m through with both of them.
It’s not fair to blame my border collie, who suddenly lunged for another dog, yanking me right off my feet and sending me flying to the concrete. I should have been paying more attention.
ooooh baby… holy jesus…
CRUEL CRUEL WORLD
Those damn nazi nurses on their everlasting powertrip! Nurses are only nice in children’s books and late night soft-porn. Want me to send someone over to break their legs and pelvises? I’ll throw in a bad hairdresser with a strap-on to give them horrible dos and then some.
i’m really sorry, the hospital experience sucks. and so does pain.
Ugh, I can’t bear this! Sorry but… that bloody mutt! Please remember that each day you will be getting a teeny bit better, just get through one hour at a time and take as many drugs as you can swallow…
This couldn’t sound more awful. Thanks for keeping it real and reminding me to enjoy my good health (which probably won’t always be good). Tonight I drink to Sister Wolf. Poor, Sister Wolf. . .