I am from the UK. Currently living in a town on the South Coast. I have been searching the internet for someone who has had the same experience that I am going through right now and unfortunately I have only found stories and blogs based in America. So I am here to write about my hospital experience here in England and maybe provide some answers and support for anyone who finds themselves going through what I am going through right now...
On the morning of February 20th 2014 - I fell down 6 wooden stairs. These were stairs in my home that I had walked up and down every day for 6 months. I had almost fallen quite a few times but managed to escape with no injuries until that day!
I got up early and left my room after my second alarm went off at 8 am and by 8.02 I was on my knees at the bottom of the stairs. It all happened so fast, as these things do! On the way down I heard a very loud cracking sound. The pain was immediate. I feel as though I blacked out for a few moments while my brain tried to catch up with what had just happened.
I had never previously broken any bones.
I had to get myself on to my bum and pull my legs out from underneath me. I did this whilst screaming at the top of my voice, for my mom to come to me! Once I did, I glared down at my left ankle and started to get teary eyed.
Mom was luckily home this day, she usually would have left for work by the time I had got up at 8 and fallen. That was the only "lucky" thing about this day.
I immediately noticed that my foot was hanging off to one side at a 90 degree angle and I now had 2 tennis balls sitting on the top of my foot. A red mark appeared on the inner side of the ankle, where my bones were close to piercing my skin.
My mom panicked - and asked me whether she must call an ambulance! I think she actually called her boyfriend first!! She even asked the ambulance service to wait a few minutes before sending someone so that she could put some clothes on!! But they arrived within 2 or 3 minutes which was very speedy indeed.
As the paramedics came in and introduced themselves, I could see from the looks on their faces that this was bad. I tried to ignore the pain as best I could and keep talking, distracting myself. They gave me some gas and air while they placed my lower leg in a splint. This was extremely painful of course. But the paramedics handled me and my emotions so incredibly well.
I was given morphine too which only made my shoulders feel weird and it didnt seem to help with my pain at all.
I slid myself over into a wheelchair and they had to drag me up the stairs, out of the house and into the ambulance. Once I was inside the ambulance, I started to think about things. I persistently asked 1 of the paramedics HOW BAD IS IT PLEASE TELL ME. I am the kinda person who likes to be told straight!
She told me that she believes I will most likely need surgery - and then the flood of tears came. Thoughts of never walking again or losing my foot/lower leg completely crossed my mind over and over.
I started thinking WHY did this happen now, why did I get up and head down the stairs to the kitchen for a glass of water - something I NEVER do.
I think it was around 8.30 am and I was already being wheeled into the A&E department of the local hospital. The pain was difficult to manage but I have quite a high pain threshold. I waited in a hallway for a few moments before being pushed into a tiny room where I had to swap over to yet another bed.
The nurse who came in to listen to what the paramedics had to say was extremely rude to them.
The 2 paramedics were absolutely lovely - not once have I had a bad experience with a paramedic.
The 2 of them stuck around until a Doctor showed up to assess the damage. I thought that was really nice of them. They were both so reassuring and really portrayed to me that they genuinely cared for me.
The Dr told me it was definitely broken and that they needed to pull it back into place.
Once the paramedics left, I was wheeled to another wing of the A&E department, left alone with my mom for a few minutes before a nurse came in to start poking me with needles and sticking wires on to my chest.
I was crying quite a lot by this point. Thinking of all the things that I won't be able to do for the next few months. It was devastating.
My mom left me to and get some drinks and collect her boyfriend from the waiting room.
While she was away, another doctor and a surgeon came in and they told me that I was going to have surgery in the next couple of hours.I burst into yet another flood of tears! They said that the ankle is broken in 3 places, dislocated and that I almost tore through the tissue around the ankle completely.
I would need a plate along the outside of my the ankle and 5/6 screws on the inner side. I would be in a cast for at least 6 weeks and recovery will take a couple of months - but I was assured that my age (20) is on my side.
As mom came back she knew it was going to be bad news as I was crying so much.
Doctors/Nurses returned to pull my ankle back into place and boy was that painful, thankfully only lasted maybe 30 seconds!
I was then left in a splint until they were ready to take me into surgery. I met an anesthetist who explained to me that they could do the surgery while I am awake and they will give me an epidural otherwise they could put me under general anesthetic but would have to insert a pipe into my throat to help me to breathe.
It was almost 1.30 pm now and I was told I would be going in, in just a few minutes. A porter came to wheel me away from my mom - as we both cried! The thought of not waking up, not seeing her again crossed my mind a few times.
I chose the epidural option but once I was taken in to the anesthetist room outside the Operating Theater, they tried 3 epidurals in 3 different places of my spine and it just wasn't working. So after 10 minutes they gave up and asked me to lay down, then put an oxygen mask over my face and I remember nothing more after that.
Almost 4 and a half hours later I woke up in recovery. There was a nurse in white uniform faffing around with my bed sheets and the first thing I said was I really need to have a wee! She brought me a bed pan but all of this is really blurry to me now. I don't remember using it or having her take it away afterwards!
I was wheeled to another ward shortly after, where I got my own corner room. My mom and her boyfriend were waiting there for me with balloons and teddy bears.
I think I was crying when I saw them. It was a very emotional day. It all happened so fast from falling, arriving at hospital then having surgery too.
The experience was extremely emotional. While typing this, I am in tears. You realize quickly that life can change in an instant. It was less than 20 seconds between being absolutely fine, and having a severely broken ankle that will take 3 to 12 months to fully recover.
Having such a severe break to my ankle has several implications on my entire life. I was in the middle of learning to drive, studying for a university degree and trying to be more fit and active on a daily basis.
So back to the main story, once I came out of surgery I was quite calm due to the mounds of morphine injected into my arm! Once my mom had left I tried to relax and get some sleep but I was having my blood pressure and temperature checked every 2 hours - so being woken up wasn't extremely pleasing throughout the whole night.
When I woke on Friday morning, after a night that felt as long as eternity I was offered breakfast and told that the surgeon would come round to see how I am and then an orthopedic specialist would come afterwards.
I had to wait until the afternoon to see my mom again.
The surgeon came in at around 9 am and said that everything went well - it was broken in 3 places, a Trimalleolar Fracture and that it was very difficult to fix but they did manage to and I should... yes only should... make a full recovery.
I was still feeling very shocked and emotional, I lay there motionless staring out the window wishing I could take back the last 24 hours of my life. Desperately almost praying to myself - asking that I could be OK or go back in time.
The specialist eventually showed up and with their usual awful bedside manner, he didn't let me ask any questions or really get 1 word in at all. It felt like he was in a rush to keep to his schedule and if I asked any questions it would put him so far behind. He was only in the room for no more than 2 minutes, just telling me what the surgeon had already said and told me that I had a bandage with a backslab on my leg while the swelling goes down. I would then in 2 or 3 days time get a cast and I would have to be NON WEIGHT BARING for 6 weeks. And once the 6 weeks is up there is no guarantee that I will be allowed to weight bare, I may even spend more time in a cast depending on what the xrays will show.
The nursing staff and care staff were absolutely horrific. But that will most likely be my next post... the hospital treatment inside the NHS!
And I will speak about what is happening in terms of recovery. As I write this, it has been 20 days since the fall. So I will let you all know about what has happened in the 20 days and what is to happen next...
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