The ambulance was air conditioned, and it was a relief to get out of the heat and into the coolness. Mike took a seat, and the ambulance stayed parked in the road as the paramedics completed forms and waited for dispatch to tell us where we were going. The word finally came through that we were on our way to St. Michael’s.It’s policy in Toronto that paramedics stay with you until you’re transferred to an ER bed, so we all spent a long time together. We pulled in to the hospital, and then waited in different hallways for a bed to be ready.
I learned that Toronto paramedics do twelve hour shifts, and they never know what’s coming next–gunshot wound, suicide, car crash, accident. If they get a call five minutes before their shift ends, they see it all the way through, no matter how long it takes. An intense gig in a city that never sleeps, where the calls keep coming, 24/7.
Eventually, a bed became ready. As the paramedics went off to their next call, it felt like I was saying goodbye to old friends. The accident happened around 9 PM, I called an ambulance around 9:30 and EMS finally reached the Acute Care bed just after midnight.
ST. MICHAEL’S ACUTE CARE BED
Once I was transferred to Acute Care, things happened quickly. Within an hour, I had consulted with a doctor and had an X-ray. An ortho specialist was called in and she ordered a CAT scan. The CAT scan showed that my tibia was broken, up where the tibia meets the patella. There was soft tissue damage and ligament injuries to both knees–they looked like a mess of bread dough:
They put my broken leg into a Zimmer splint. The attending doctor consulted again with the ortho specialist, and then with me and we agreed on a plan–if, by morning, I was unable to bear weight on my non-broken leg, I’d be admitted for observation. I felt good about the plan, Mike went home, and I fell asleep feeling like the right decision had been made.
GEM
A couple of hours later I was poked awake by a young woman who identified herself as being from Geriatric Emergency Management (GEM). GEM said that she “managed seniors who had fallen down.”I laughed. I said I’d just turned 60, that I had celebrated it and loved being this age, but that I had never been framed as a geriatric senior and I didn’t think it was cool. She told me not to worry, she was sure I had many good years left. In fact, she even had a client who was 100, so if I was lucky, I could potentially live for another 40 years.
Then she said that if I couldn’t hop on my less busted leg I would be sent to Providence in Scarborough. I didn’t know what that meant, only that it sounded ominous.
“But I don’t want to go Providence. What happened to the plan?”
“Things change.”
Before I knew what was happening, GEM had a nurse wrap my non broken leg in a tensor bandage, and they stood me up on it. They pulled me onto a walker and made me hop six excruciating inches.GOING HOME
That was enough for GEM. She said she was discharging me. She asked if I could call myself a ride. I said I had Lyft on my phone. In no time, I was transferred to a wheelchair and a very athletic nurse speed walked me out of the ER.
The Lyft driver was totally miffed when he saw me being wheeled towards his car. He shook his head and made it clear that he didn’t want to accept me,“Oh no, no, I’m not taking that!” (I’m pretty sure he meant the wheelchair…)
The nurse was having none of it, and he opened the door and unfolded me into the car. I sat with my busted legs sprawled on the back seat, and tried to make small talk with the irritated driver.
“Some warm out… So, do you like being a Lyft driver… You must meet all kinds of people… etc.”
Thankfully, Mike was at the house to meet me. I have almost no memory of getting from the car to the house, but it was a combination of me dragging myself up the stairs on my ass and then Mike carefully rolling me inside.
The ongoing saga of the accident and my recovery keeps teaching me new things, things that I think are good to remember, such as:
– When you take an ambulance to the hospital, nobody cares how you leave the hospital, or even if you get home safely.
– Once you hit this number — 60 — you morph into a “geriatric” “senior” who needs special “management.” And the system wants you gone. Hospitals even have people on staff to take care of it (Geriatric Emergency Management=emergency geriatrics will be quickly managed away).
– Nurses do exist, but they mostly take the form of ghosts haunting hallways and the edges of hospital rooms.
Sorry this has happened to you Liz, and yeah being inside the medical system generally sucks (it has good parts too mind you!) but if at all possible it is best we stay out of hospitals and if inside, advocate the hell out of it for yourself or your loved ones. All that said, you are strong in all the right ways and I know you will heal in due time. Love the blog posts, love the raccoons, I’m sure they meant now harm (unlike the mosquitoes)
Sending healing vibes.
Thanks so much for the message, Curtis! Yes, so much going wrong with the system and then some stuff going right. The hardest part of this journey has been having to advocate for myself–it was like all day, every day in the first weeks. I’m lucky to have a great homeopath/naturopath, and I’ve done some training in herbalism and the flower remedies (they have been helping with the rage, lol). Incorporating complementary modalities always helps, I find. I’m looking forward to being able to visit with the raccoons soon 🙂 Thanks for the healing vibes <3