Six hours in emergency

By Doreen Marion Gee

Life has a bad habit of nipping you in the butt when you are not looking. An injury, a tragedy, a loss - can change your life in a nanosecond. A serious fall and injury put me in a tailspin this winter. It shook my comfort zone like an earthquake. When I started out on my walk to the bus on February 27th, I felt frisky and fancy-free as the sun danced through the trees. As I walked towards the bus stop, I stepped through a grassy patch, not noticing that it was mainly mud. When I touched the runny soil with my boots, the mud was as smooth and slippery as a piece of ice. Losing traction, I went flying forward, gaining NASCAR speed on my own mini mudslide. Falling forward, I flung out my arms to protect my head and crashed right onto my left shoulder - which took all of the momentum and the brunt of my weight.

It all happened in a split second - my perfect day was annihilated in the bat of an eye. The first sensation I had was a blazing torrent of pain in my left shoulder and upper arm. For the rest of my days, I will never forget that mind-crushing excruciating pain! (Never thought anything would trump childbirth in the pain category; I was wrong.) All of a sudden, a young girl appeared out of nowhere, sat down beside me and offered to help. Holly knew her CPR; she knelt down, rested my wounded arm on her knee. When I tried to move my left shoulder, the pain exploded and I almost lost consciousness. It felt like my shoulder and upper arm were being squeezed at full force in a bench vice by a sadistic demon. Holly called an ambulance; praise the gods for cellphones.

It was hard to be genteel when extreme pain was ripping my self-control to shreds. I did a lot of yelling that day. Serious pain also shuts down rational thinking. I could not understand why the paramedics would not just stick a needle in me right away with a truckload of stupefying drugs. Later, I realized that this was a life-saving action. The two paramedics managed to get my tormented shock-ridden body to emergency without a hitch.

Give me a pain-killer! I yelled. The volcano of pain in my shoulder was unremitting and savage. I had no sense of decorum in the Jubilee emergency ward either. The razor- edge throbbing put me in survival mode with only one thought: Kill the pain. Why did they have to take my blood pressure six times? Probably because I was having a panic attack, inflating the readings off the chart. When I literally forced myself to calm down, they finally got a blood pressure reading and an angelic nurse got the pain-zappers dripping down the tiny tube.

Even in the most grisly circumstances, humour can impishly sneak in. When nature called in the x-ray room, I was not ready. It was a herculean feat by staff to stick a bed pan under my pain-wracked body. I pushed and pushed but narry a squirt. Horizontal on the stretcher, I cried Help! Nothing is working! A very calm matter-of-fact voice wafted across the room: "That's because your brain can't figure out why you are doing this lying flat on your back!" Even now as I recuperate, that makes me laugh out loud.

It was a relief to find out that I had dislocated my shoulder. At least I knew what the pain was all about! My major impression about the six hours I spent in emergency was that I was witnessing a very well-oiled machine. I was amazed at the efficiency of that team of health care workers. The doctors, nurses, nurses' assistants, x-ray technicians and paramedics all worked together cohesively and effectively to give me the very best health care possible. It was impressive. Being prepped, anesthetized, my shoulder bone put back into place by Dr. Henry - it all took eight minutes!

Special personal touches and small kindnesses made my emergency experience bearable. "Emergency" is a scary, tumultuous place. When "Lorraine" gave me a gentle wash with soap and warm water and put a soft heated blanket over me, I felt like I was at a luxury spa. This personal treatment took the edge off a very traumatic and painful day.

My recovery is coming along well. I am slowly getting full function back in my shoulder and arm. Anyone's life can change in the twinkle of a star. What happened in February has given me even more determination to make every minute count. And it has given me the knowledge that when I slide and fall, there is usually someone there who is ready and willing to pick me right back up again.