2 percenters can still be funny

This past November I broke my leg, 'well, that isn't very funny', you might be thinking but au contrair, mon ami! To begin we have to take into account the way that it happened, which is where the '2%' comes in, even the doctors were baffled, apparently an absolute First for the trauma unit and if that isn't impressive credentials to my clumsiness I don't know what is! They kept asking me if I was on drugs, I still am not sure how that would enable someone to break their own leg but it was their chief question at the start.

Here is how it happened, I will try to cut out some of the swearing although in this case, I think even Mother Theresa would have cursed a time or two. I was getting ready to go to bed and was sitting at the table to remove my boots. (side note: favorite pair of boots ever - up until that moment, of course - traveled all around the world in them, wore them every day) Anyway, back to our story. For some reason the left boot was stuck, I mean good and stuck. I struggled with it a few minutes, tug-pull, grrr. Put it back on all the way, waited, tried again, tug-pull-tug, grrr. It went on like this for about five minutes. I was getting genuinely flustered and a little panicky because I really really don't like feeling trapped in stuff - to the point where I do not wear turtle neck shirts because I find them too confining.

Okay, fine, deep breath and then one more try ... yank!

SNAP - POP - AHHHHHH!

There was a weird flash of white light when it broke - and the instant panic of "Oh, Sh*t, something just went very very wrong!" The pain was brilliant and I am pretty sure I went into shock almost immediately. I just sat for a few seconds swearing and staring at my leg, which did not look right - soooo thankful I was wearing jeans, ewwww - I don't even want to think about that too long.
 
Now, here is the funny part...The boot was STILL stuck on!!

Not knowing quite what had happened but knowing it wasn't good I tried to stand to get to my phone which was 15 feet away from me. It might has well have been a mile at that point. It took all of half a nano-second to realize that standing was Not an option. Meanwhile the string of all but involuntary "F*ck! F*ck! F*ck!" keeps just rolling out of my mouth. So somewhere in the fog of pain and panic I decide I can sit here and suffer or I can somehow get to my phone. Ok, phone it is. I am not entirely sure how long it took me, time sort of morphed on me, but I did eventually get to my phone.

Now, one would think your initial impulse would be to call 911. And for a person not in shock that is most likely the case, but not for me...I called the first person in my phone list. Poor dear friend, I think I have thrown off his game forever - I wonder if he is afraid to pick up the phone now if he sees it is me :) haha.

He answers and I am swearing and crying and generally being completely incoherent, it doesn't take him long to assess that even though he can't tell what happened, I need help and fast. He hangs up with me, which sends me into truly terrified mode, and calls 911. Now I am sure he told me that is what he was going to do, but I didn't really hear him at the time and I just started to ball. Here is where the next thing I do is even more odd. I still don't call 911, I call my workmate because we are on a huge project and all I was thinking is, I don't think I am going to be able to work tomorrow! She asked later if I remembered calling her, totally do not, no idea what I even said to her. Awesome.

Yeah, I have no clue how my mind works either, so it is ok.

Then 911 calls me, and I looked at my phone and remember thinking, who is calling me Now!! Hilarious. Luckily I answered. Skip forward...

The EMTs arrive while the dispatcher is on the phone with me, I am on one side of the room, on the floor - and the double bolted door is on the other.
Dispatcher: "Can you let them in? They are outside your door."
Me: "No, I can't move." sobbing
Dispatcher: "Ma'am ... Ma'am - don't worry, they will get to you."
Me: still sobbing
Dispatcher: "It is ok, I will stay on the phone with you until they get in."
Me: sniffle, whimper (totally pathetic!) "Okay"

The 911 dispatchers must have the most frustrating job ever - wow!

Knock-knock-knock ... "Ma'am - it's the emergency service"
Me: "Help!!" this answer makes me laugh now ... of course, help - silly woman, why do you think they are there!! The stories those folks must have!

It took what felt like forever for them to break in, they ended up cutting through the wall to unlock the door because the dead bolts would not budge. Once they get in they do a few initial checks, make sure I am breathing and then ask what happened.
I explained...then there was this long moment of silence from all of them.
"What happened again?"
I explained again.
More silence...

"Uh, ok - well, let's get you looked at then."

Just a reminder the boot is still stuck on my foot, they need to look at my leg, and I was wearing the only decent pair of jeans I owned that didn't have a hole in them...not for long... they just cut straight up the sides of my jeans right away. (at the time I didn't care I can assure you, I do remember thinking 'thank god I am wearing underwear' - didn't matter as it turns out they cut that off too!) So, I am half naked and in pain and the boot is well lodged on my foot. One of the EMTs says...

"Well, we really need to get the boot off Ma'am, we are going to hold your leg and pull."
I see red in a state of terror at the thought of even more pain and yelled, surprisingly loudly..."F*ck, that NO! Just cut it off!!!!"
"Are you sure?"
"YES!!!!"

Here is my question, you have just cut off half my clothes, I am lying here, naked - crying - cursing - suffering AND after my story of how it happened, do you really think I would Ever put those boots on again!?! :) not a chance!!!

At the hospital, leg is definitely broken, pain meds taken and they decide I need traction. I have never had traction before, and hope to all that is good in the world I never need it again. But it involves metal rods in places that you don't want and weights and ropes and pulleys (which would all be kind of kinky without the pain element, snicker-snicker) and yes, that is actually what I thought at the time. A warped sense of humor would be a terrible thing to waste. (grin!) The nurse is putting the metal rod into my leg, thank god for local anesthetics, so there wasn't pain but I could hear the drill. (yes, drill ... yuck!) She is about half way through when her phone rings and she answered it!! I just turned my head and looked at her, completely incredulous and said, "Really!?! Now?"
"Oh, um, sorry." She replies. Sheesh!!

After all was said and done, had surgery and was on the mend, so time to go home - when my son and I got back, there on the floor were the shreds of my jeans and the offending boot (the picture I took is classic).
I sent the picture to one of my dear friends.
Him: "Damn, you didn't throw them out did you?"
Me: "Yes, of course, why?"
Him: "You should have saved it, you could have been She-Hulk for Halloween! Best costume ever!"
Me: "Haha, I didn't think of that! But there was no butt left to the jeans."
Him: "Yeah? Even better!!"
Nice!! :)