I got to see a very calm third-year orthopedic resident in the ER about an hour after I got to the hospital. At that point they had started an IV for me with antibiotics since I had an open wound, and I believe they put some morphine in there pretty early, since the risk of interaction with my other medication is not a problem in a monitored setting.
The doctor elevated my leg on a “hammock” he made by stringing gauze from one bed rail to the other — apparently his colleague invented the technique and published a paper on it — which allowed him to make a plaster splint for my leg. He also straightened my floppy foot out, which hurt, but not as badly as I thought it would.
It turned out that since I had an open wound, even though it was small, I would get to go to surgery as soon as possible, which turned out to be the next morning. I didn’t sleep much, and had a moment when I just kind of broke down psychologically after getting a super sweet email from a climbing friend. A nurse came in to talk me out of it, which I totally appreciated. They came to get me at 7 am, took me to a prep area where I met my surgery and anesthesia team. The anesthesiologist was very enthusiastic about giving climbing a try, and I gave him some tips about where to go, and tried to convince him of how awesome it is.
The doctor the night before had explained to me that there were two options for surgery: either a rod that went down the center of my bone, or a plate and screws. He seemed to think that the rod was slightly advantageous, but told me I would discuss the options with the surgery team in the morning. It turned out that there was nothing to discuss, and that I was getting the rod. Which I learned later is definitely the better option. The best thing about the rod, technically known as an IM nail, is that it is completely load bearing from the moment they put it in. In other words, the only thing between you and walking again is pain and soft tissue damage.
One of the doctors also asked me about my healing fractured rib that showed up on my chest xray, which I actually never knew about. I mean, I knew that I had a painful overuse injury in my rib area from about five weeks before, but assumed it was a pulled intercostal muscle. Oh, climbing.
I got carted into the operating room. I was a little scared but was just telling myself how routine this was. The next thing I knew I was in the recovery room, and oh my god, I was in pain. I rated the pain of the bone break a 6 when I came in, and a 9 after surgery. I cried from pain for the first and only time of the whole ordeal, and told them they had to give me more morphine, which I guess they did, and then I fell back asleep.
That evening I got into my own room, and stayed there until two days after the surgery. My leg was simply wrapped up in an ace bandage, and elevated on pillows. The pain was better than in the recovery room, and I had been taken off morphine and put on oxycodone. For some reason I was only being given 5 mg of oxycodone every four hours, instead of the 10 that I was also allowed to have. During my first night, the pain was pretty bad, and I finally got some Demerol intravenously, which was great. The next day my pain had reduced a good amount — I was down to a three on the pain scale — still taking either 5 or 10 mg (as necessary) of oxycodone. I saw a physical therapist who, given the strength that I had in all of my muscles in his initial diagnostics, thought I would be able to go home that day. I got an aircast boot, and we did some crutches training, but I didn’t do particularly well and got dizzy. So no release for me yet.
At 10 that night I took the last oxycodone pill I would take in the hospital. The next morning I had very minimal pain — maybe a one on the pain scale — and tried again with the crutches/pt guy. He was pretty sure I was going to be released by noon. I tried walking to the end of the hall, and got very dizzy this time. Because my blood pressure was 80/40. So: back to bed, and they pumped me up with some saline intravenously. My blood pressure went up, I did some crutching and some crutching up and down stairs, still felt a little dizzy, but was cleared to go home. I have to say that I was pretty scared about how I going to be able to manage everything once I got home, since I felt unconfident on the crutches, and in the hospital someone could attend to my every need.
Psychological take away: the pain, and your desire to get out of the hospital, will probably facilitate this for you, but don’t think about when you will be climbing — or whatever exercise you are missing — again. It’s going to be a while. Let it go, and move onto when you are going to be able to go home, when you are going to be able to shower, when you will get your staples out, etc.
I Broke My Leg Bouldering 