April Fools... I Wish

Here's what happened on Wednesday. It's as accurate as I remember it and have been told, but I'm still gathering details from those who witnessed it. And, yes, it was hilarious at the time and, if anything, I underestimate how much of a hot mess I was that night at the hospital and after...

On Wednesday night, some friends and I decided to start their Spring Break a bit early by going out to one of our favorite bars. I was in a great mood all night because I hadn’t been to this bar in quite some time and have had some amazing times and outrageous bar tabs there over the years. There was karaoke and great company including a few people that I hadn’t seen in a while.

For those of you who know me, I’m not a big partier—I don’t usually go out and I’m not really a big drinker. However, when I’m in the mood to have a good time, I most definitely do. Wednesday night was one of those nights.

After some pre-gaming at some friends’ apartment, we walked to the bar, grabbed some drinks, and set up shop near the side of the karaoke stage. The way the bar is set up is that there was a raised walkway along 4 booths for people to move behind the stage area easily. We had walked to the edge of that platform around 12:30 am and were enjoying ourselves dancing and doing things that one does while in a bar. (Note: I’m not a big dancer, but there are certain times and certain people who bring out something in me that cannot be explained. Wednesday night just happened to be one those nights as well.)

I guess the actual events are a bit fuzzy. I remember dancing with a pitcher of my favorite beverage. I remember hitting the ground and a guy who I think worked for the bar came over to help/make sure that they wouldn’t get sued. Someone asked me if I was okay and I said, “I’m good. My ankle’s broken, but I’m good.”

Then it became a matter of what to do next. I didn’t want anyone to end their night early because of me. Also, at this point, the pain was kind of dulled thanks to my liquid encouragement. After about 10 minutes of sitting off to the side and gathering my thoughts, it became readily apparent that it was time to make our way to the emergency room. Thankfully, I had my friends there to help and was able to use the kitchen to make my escape and hopefully not a scene.

Krista drove my car while Bradford, a friend who is in his first year of law school and served as my “legalish counsel” for the evening, rode shotgun, provided color commentary, and kept a journal of my pain-induced swearing. He and I were both still a good bit tipsy which made the ride much more entertaining, I’m sure. There was a lot of Gatorade and fudge (leftovers from my pre-gaming) consumed which made me happy. Also, around this point, the pain became very, very noticeable especially when we hit bumps in the road. I may have added a few new swear words to the dictionary at that point.

Once at the hospital around 2:00 am, the three of us burst into the ER and the ruckus began. Krista, the most level-headed (read: entirely sober) of the group at this point, helped get me through triage with a nurse who seemed to be more than slightly amused by my situation. I tried to be honest about having had a few drinks because I’m sure they’ve seen it all and this was clearly not the worst case scenario.

We waited in the lobby for about 10 minutes during which time I threatened repeatedly to escape. I also asked them to not judge me if I cried. One of those two things happened and I’ll leave it up to you to guess which it was.

In the back area of the ER, I made a grand entrance waving to the nurses and physicians on duty and made mention that I hoped to make this a memorable evening for them. I think it’s the little touches like that that can make one’s life more pleasant.

Soon, an X-ray tech came to take me to get some X-rays on my ankle. As I was wheeled away, Bradford, the pal that he is, took some pictures. Apparently, you aren’t allowed to take pictures in the hospital, but we could always just say that he was documenting the experience in the event that legal action was required.

At one point, we were told that if we didn’t quiet down, they would kick us out which is totally unfair since I was broken. The doctor came in to confirm that my ankle was indeed broken in two places and that I would need to see a specialist the following day. For the evening (well, morning since it was getting close to 3:30 at this point), I would get a nice splint to hold everything in place and a set of crutches on which I could get around. Neither would last very long.

I’ve got to say this before I go on much further—I’ve never used crutches nor have I broken anything other than my arm in the 6^th grade when my brother “tackled” me in touch football and I somehow ended up wrist first in a pine tree. I’ve never even played around with a friend’s crutches to see what the fuss was all about. I have no clue how they’re supposed to fit or be used. All I know is that the pair I was given in the hospital was about 4 inches taller than they should have been and that I’m not very good at using them.

Bradford and Krista helped me back to my car and drove me home, this time a bit more careful about bumps and such. As we got to my apartment, I got to experience my new appendages for the first time. They parked as close as possible though we were still about 20 feet and an 8 inch curb away from my door.

That was the longest 20 feet I’ve ever experienced in my life. About 12 feet in, I offered to sleep on the spot if they could just fetch my air mattress. That would make it easier to get me to the doctor in the morning, too. My logic was foolproof. Unfortunately, they’re more stubborn than I and they forced me inside. However, their concern for my well-being was often over-shadowed by the hilarity of the situation, and more so by the things that I was apparently saying. The pain medication may have taken effect or the adrenaline may have worn off by this point. Either way, it was quite humorous to watch I’d imagine.

After some finagling and numerous breaks to plead my case for sleeping outside, they finally got me into bed, propped up my leg, set up some water and anything I could need that evening. This may or may not have included a cup (or 6) just in case the bathroom was needed during the night. It was.

During the ordeal, I’d been posting updates and comments to Facebook and Twitter. Many assumed that I was just getting a jump on April Fools jokes. Thankfully, my sister-in-law just happened to check her phone and see them. Needless to say, she wanted to know what happened and called to get the scoop. She suggested that I call my parents—who I’d seemed to have forgotten up to that point in the evening. I reasoned that this was news that would be better received on a full night’s rest and promised to call them first thing in the morning.

Finally, just after 4:30, I drifted off to sleep for about an hour and a half. It was still too early to call home so I used my time coming up with a good intro for that conversation. Nothing seemed to fit so I decided to go with “Wanna hear a funny story?” I am clearly not the best judge of what’s funny at 6 am when on pain meds and nursing a throbbing ankle.

To make a long story just a bit shorter, I’m going to skip over some of the details of my day at the orthopedist’s office on Thursday and just hit the high points. My ankle is broken in two places and I tore some ligaments. I’ve got to have surgery next Wednesday afternoon and will be pretty much off my feet for the next 2-3 months. I’ve got a wheelchair to help get around and a better set of crutches to use though I’m still jerky and off-balanced using them. My brother and sister-in-law have graciously volunteered to take me in for the time being so that I can recover with people around to help if needed.


I’m very thankful—beyond words thankful—to everyone who helped me that night and who has helped and will help during my recovery. I will try to update a few times before my surgery, but can’t promise much with family gatherings for Easter and my limited mobility.