The Day That Changed Everything: Part 2

Before I begin, I want to say that my thoughts and prayers are with the people of Newtown. May God bless the victims and their families. There are no words.

I realize that it's been weeks since I've last written; I'm sorry it's taken me so long to write this post. These last few days have turned my world upside down; I had final exams to study for and a sudden funeral to attend, so I'm only now sitting down to write this.

Part 1 of this story is here.

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I'm sitting in the back of the car as my mom drives me to the pediatrician's office, and each time there's a slight bump in the road, the pain in my leg is excruciating. Up until this point, it didn't hurt too badly, but now, each and every jolt makes it spasm violently and uncontrollably, blurring my thoughts into nothingness. 

The pediatrician's office says they're on their lunch break so they refuse to take me, refuse to even look at my leg. "Go home and rest it for a few days and take some Tylenol. It's probably just a sprain," they suggest. 

Just a sprain.

We head over to the walk-in clinic instead, where they examine me immediately. There's no bruise on my leg, an ominous sign. It seems like we're there for hours, and maybe we were; I'm not sure. The spasms seem to  calm down a bit now that my leg isn't being bumped around. They take X-Rays and I watch as they whisper amongst each other. At this point, I have no idea what's going on or what's wrong with my leg, and for some reason I'm not even terribly concerned.

They decide to call an ambulance to take me to the Children's Hospital. The ride there actually isn't too bad. It's almost fun. The EMTs secure my leg so well that it barely hurts the entire way there, and I remember thinking how interesting it was to be able to look out the rear window of the ambulance, watching the cars drive by. 

Once I'm in the ER, the spasms begin again in full force, and the pain is unimaginable. A nurse tries to give me an IV, but even an IV isn't simple with me. My veins are smaller than normal, so it seems like she's poking me with the needle over and over and over. I HATE needles, so I just try to tell myself to focus on the ceiling, focus on anything but the sharp pains in my hand and my leg. 

Then, one poke sends blood spurting out of my hand like a fountain, and I hear my mom's voice dimly in the background: "Don't look, don't look. Keep looking at the ceiling."

I don't look, but I get the impression that blood is spraying all over the nurse's white coat, and she shouts for assistance. Somehow they get the bleeding under control and I finally get a successful IV. 

A doctor looks at my leg and declares that it's broken. Apparently the spasms are a protective mechanism, but my CP greatly exaggerates them so that they are more painful and more pronounced than they would normally be. 

"When was the last time you've eaten?" he asks.

I think of the Pringle that I was unable to bring myself to eat, and I respond that I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. 

"Good," he says, "because the blood supply to your leg has been disrupted, so we need to do emergency surgery NOW." 

I think back to the morning, when my day was ordinary and routine, and that seems like forever ago. 

I barely have time to comprehend what's going on before they administer the anesthesia and the whole world goes black. 

Little did I know that this was only the beginning of my journey.

Part 3 will hopefully be coming soon.