I slipped and fell late Sunday while taking Teddy for a walk. The slip-n-fall was nothing remarkable, but I heard a loud and horrible "crack." I couldn't find any wood beneath me but I did find my leg, just above the ankle, badly broken. The end of the tibia was visible through the skin. It was an unpleasant sight.
I sent Teddy inside and then dragged my body about fifty-sixty feet across dirt, rocks, then concrete, oak leaves, etc. to my phone. Called my sis. Then called 911. Paramedics showed up pretty quickly. Teddy watched 'em cart me away.
Monday morning, they performed the surgery. It's called "right tibia nail." It involves inserting a long tubular metal thingy from the ankle down to the break, right above the ankle. You can watch it on YouTube. It's pretty gross.
Evidently, the surgeons were particularly proud of their work. The surgery went well.
I can't put weight on my right leg for a while (months?), which means I can't walk until this thing heals. I can get by with a walker, a process that taxes especially my left arm (moving from sitting to walker/standing), but so far so good. I wouldn't recommend it though.
Sheesh! Frickin' old age!
Everybody—paramedics, nurses, doctors, my sister—all did a great job. Thanks much!
And thanks for the well wishes! I'm in very little pain and doing well. No need for concern.
Again, thanks.
—Roy
P.s.: Teddy says "hey"
