DISLOCATING A HIP

Life sometimes throws a curveball at you, and you can either face it head-on or let it take you down. There have been many casualties during our Texas Winter War/Weather Apocalypse. I'm one of the minor ones. Early Thursday morning, after taking Paddy for a walk in the tundra of the common area in my development, I gathered snow for the toilets. I hadn't had water in a few days, and the water I had collected was gone. Luckily, I had the coat, gloves, and hat I wore while cruising and hiking in Antarctica nine years ago. I was scooping and turning while bending over from the waist when my 8-month-old artificial hip joint suddenly dislocated, and I found myself writhing in pain flat on my back on top of ice and snow two feet from my back patio. There are 30 townhouses in my development, and only eight families/couples live here full-time. I screamed for help, knowing that at 7:30 AM, no one might hear me. I usually carry my phone, especially while walking on ice and snow, several times a day to take Paddy out to do his business.

I screamed, "HELP!" until I finally heard a male voice about 30 feet away telling me he would be there shortly. Two doors down, the townhouse is rented to several young men who have girlfriends staying with them. Cars and trucks are parked everywhere, and I have frequently grumbled about the "car lot" on the street. You can bet those cars won't bother me in the future. All five or six occupants came running to find out what was wrong. I realized I could perish in the snow had I not been heard. The temperature was 17 degrees. My leg was severely contorted and enormously painful, rendering me unable to move. A neighbor a few houses away in the other direction also listened to my cries and came to help. I had seen all these neighbors in the past and would greet them occasionally, but I didn't know any of them.

Donald told one of his roommates to call 911. He and his roommates brought me blankets, stayed with me, and did everything they could to make me more comfortable. I wondered who would take care of Paddy. Another neighbor immediately offered to take care of him and gathered his food and bowls from inside the house, knowing she would be making frequent trips with him outside. While lying there, I quickly realized that I was amongst the angels who came to rescue me. I had always believed that I didn't need anyone and was invincible. I was wrong. They ran when I needed someone the most, even though we were strangers. After about 30 minutes, more heroes arrived, consisting of four firefighters and two EMS personnel. They assessed the situation and quickly knew a hospital trip was in order, even though the ambulance could not make it up the slick, steep hill in front of my house. The group leader told me their plan to get me down the hill, but I would experience even more discomfort when they transferred me to the transport board. The paramedic asked if I'd like something for the pain. I responded, "Absolutely! I'm a child of the '60s, so bring it on!" And they did. A considerable portion of the pain subsided within a few minutes, and I felt wonderfully intoxicated. They loaded me onto the open part of the fire department pick-up truck to transport me down the hill to the waiting ambulance. It was a rather cold, slippery, and rocky ride. The paramedic stayed with me while reassuring me that everything would be okay. The morphine and his kind responses kept me from obsessing that the truck could overturn at any minute and break every bone in my body, although the thought crossed my dopey brain. Sometimes things can get much worse, even when you think the worst is over.

When we arrived inside the hospital, it was a chaotic scene with patients everywhere. One doctor, one PA, and several nurses tended to a hoard of one hundred people waiting for 15 rooms. Many were in critical condition with broken bones, heart and kidney failure, and probably a case or two of COVID. I was parked in the hallway and forgotten. Still, I could hear conversations at the nurses' station as they tried to find empty hospital beds in overflowing Austin-area hospitals while arranging ambulances to transport the lucky ones away. I was at the bottom of the triage list as my condition was not critical. I might have been in immense pain, but I knew I wouldn't die. Things could be worse; I could still be lying on the ice in 18-degree weather, screaming for help. After an hour or so, I started begging every employee that passed by to help me urinate and give me pain medication. I knew they all wanted to help, but more difficult situations occurred in the ER. Finally, I was taken to a room, given medication, and fitted with equipment to drain my bladder. It wasn't long before I had to endure the excruciating pain of having my hip x-rayed. X-rays revealed a dislocated hip with no fractures. The ER doctor called my orthopedist and got approval to pop my hip back in place. He explained that I would receive conscious sedation while he did the deed, but he might have to intubate me and put me on a ventilator if something happened with my breathing during the procedure. I told him to stop talking about a ventilator, even though I knew this was part of informed consent and keeping lawyers busy. A respiratory therapist, a nurse, two police officers, and the doctor surrounded me in preparation for the procedure while my body was exposed. Oh, the indignities of being old and at your most vulnerable! The police made me wonder if I had done something illegal while under the influence of morphine. The ER doc explained that it took several people's strength to pop the hip joint back in place, as the x-rays revealed a separated ball and joint appliance dangling alongside an unattached femur.

As soon as the sedation took effect, I experienced what seemed like an LSD trip, although I never dropped acid in my younger years. I remember thinking this experience was like dying. I was floating somewhere through a place filled with vividly bright colors. There was no fear or pain, just overwhelming peace, not unlike the near-death experiences described by many people who died but returned to life. I was never close to death, but the fear of dying in the snow must have remained in my head, paving the way for a belief that the end might not be so horrible if it's like an acid trip.

The Tech and nurse could hardly wait to get me out of the room, as I'm confident the nurse in charge of ER traffic control was under tremendous pressure to free space for someone more critical. I was given quick instructions to put on a knee mobilizer and walk with crutches while being non-weight bearing on the left leg. I might have once run a rehabilitation hospital, but I never paid any attention to the mechanics of how to get around on one leg, and I certainly didn't think I'd ever need to learn. Oh, the arrogance of youth and good health! I was still groggy and nauseous as I was wheeled to the ER waiting room along with 20 other patients. I had no idea how to get home or take care of myself in my current condition, but I soon learned that a close friend was driving from a place over an hour away to retrieve me. He had texted me at some point that his home would become a "nursing home" and that he would take care of me as long as I needed him. Needing anyone had never occurred to me, but on this day, things changed in an instant. The weather had made roads almost unnavigable, but he made it after several hours, and we successfully made the treacherous trip to his home.

The other details of my recovery are still in progress, but I'm primarily dependent. The eight-week road back to self-sufficiency will seem long and impossible at times because my nature is to be completely independent. Still, I'll get by with a little (or a lot) of help from my friends because hopping around with crutches is very difficult. Even basic needs have to be met by someone else, but I'm hopeful that each day will bring more strength and balance. I'll learn how to do things for myself in a different way.

Once again, my faith in people has been restored and realizing that I need others was a lesson I finally learned. The strangers who came to help me when I was in a dire situation and the friends who have offered to do whatever they could, from praying to offering their home to recover to checking on me, bring me to tears when I think of their kindness. Angels are everywhere.