| One
Wrong Twist and a Pop |
| I was making my list and checking it twice, going to find
out who was naughty or nice, when my Christmas season took
a 180-degree turn for the worst. |
| My "list" actually consisted of about five lists,
ranging from gifts left to buy, menus to figure out, groceries
to purchase, schedules for Christmas Eve and Christmas day,
and even a list of what to pack and take on a short vacation
we had planned after Christmas. |
| Now a list doesn't sound like something to crow about, but
for me, the Great Procrastinator, it was akin to writing the
Declaration of Independence¤just ask my wife, Betsy. My planning
practice is commonly called "flying by the seat of my
pants." (By the way, does anyone really know what "flying
by the seat of my pants" means?) |
| A typical list of mine would read something like this: |
| 1. Get up at 10 a.m. |
| 2. Have breakfast |
| 3. Buy Christmas gift |
| 4. Watch football game |
| Makes sense to me. |
| But this year was going to be different. I made detailed
lists for every day of the holidays. I was a proud puppy.
|
| But my good intentions were about to change in a wink. |
| In a nutshell, I slipped, catching my lower right leg between
the bathroom wall and the ... OK. OK. The toilet! |
| As my leg remained jammed, my upper body took a sharp turn
to the west and all I could hear was a loud "pop."
It was not the pop of a champagne cork, or the crack of a
baseball bat, but rather the boom of a cherry bomb. |
| In an instant I knew what had happened: My kneecap broke
into two pieces, maybe three or four. I had heard that sound
before¤27 years ago, when I broke that same kneecap. It's
been held together all that time by a stainless steel "twister
tie." |
| An inspection of my knee confirmed the worst and I immediately
called my wife, who called 9-1-1 who called the rescue boys
from the Herndon fire station. They seemed to arrive in my
bathroom before I could even untangle my leg. |
| By the way, have you ever been in a bathroom, lying on the
floor, with five burly rescue guys and your wife looking down
at you? And you're in your boxer shorts? It's not a pretty
sight. |
| They took my vital signs, checked out my leg, head and arms
and declared that I, indeed, was not dead. Whew! Thank goodness
for small favors. |
| They called for the ambulance from the Fox Mill station,
and as we awaited its arrival, we had a discussion about mutual
friends. We've all been around here a long time. |
| Soon enough another group of big guys arrived. It was a
good thing, because as I tried, successfully I might add,
not to throw up or pass out, it took all of them to lift this
mighty frame of mine from floor to the gurney. |
| With neighbors watching, and wondering, I suppose, we left
and took a casual drive to Reston Hospital. It was a Code
2, Tom, the ambulance attendant, told me. That meant I was
not about to die, at least on their watch. Whew! Again I was
relieved. |
| Sunday morning at the Reston Hospital emergency room was
empty, not like the usual hustle and bustle of an emergency
room on a Friday or Saturday night. Everyone was still sleeping
in, I guess, or maybe it was because there is so much construction
at Reston Hospital no one can find the emergency room. |
| A flurry of emergency staffers all marched in and out, taking
more vital signs and telling me I was not dead. That relieved
two of my children who had just arrived and my wife. |
| X-rays came next. "Hey, your kneecap's busted,"
someone said. No kidding, Sherlock. |
| A doctor¤a real, live orthopedist¤came in with the film
and said, "Hey, your kneecap's busted." |
| Well, at least I wasn't dead. |
| This story hasn't ended yet. I've had to hang around this
Christmas week with a brace on my leg and a bottle of pain
killers, and as you read this column, if you're reading it
Friday night, Dec. 27, I'm in a Reston Hospital operating
room having my kneecap put back together, piece by piece by
piece. |
| It's amazing how many people are involved in a simple accident
like this. Two rescue squad units, a cadre of hospital emergency
room personnel, X-ray technicians, someone who got me a glass
of orange juice, a doctor, the operating room staff, the nurses
and soon, the physical therapists. |
| And after a month or so of recovery, I should have back
my really stiff, sore right leg. |
| But at least I'm not dead. |
| And that's Our town this week. |
