Depression Memoir: Updated 2/10

[xfundy]

17. * Update, 2/10: The Accident *

June, 2005

My friend from DC was again coming out to visit, and though he'd seen me at what had previously been my worst, the apartment still had the trails through all the trash, and a huge stack of newspapers in the front closet where he'd need to put his luggage. We've known each other since he was my boss in '86 and always had a good time wandering around the city when he came out for a visit, typically once a year.

I'd gotten rid of a good portion of the garbage, had bought a new mattress and frame, vacuumed somewhat when I uncovered the machine, and decided to take the newspapers to the recycling bin, down the elevator, then the stairway to the lower basement, concrete walls and steps with freshly laid new carpet.

Tired of cleaning and actually looking forward to a bath, I wanted to get the job done quickly. I loaded the papers into my little folding shopping cart (they're essential if you live in a downtown area and don't drive), as well as six or eight big paper bags from Trader Joe's.

Surely, if I was careful, I could make it down with the folding cart. I'd done it before, but to save time I also had several of the paper bags in my hands, making it impossible to hold onto the side rails.

After a couple of steps I slipped and landed at the bottom of the concrete stairs, along with the newspapers and cart, a distance of probably 25 feet.

I may have blacked out for a minute, but when I regained awareness I looked myself over, just a little scratched, and decided to finish walking the papers to the recycling area and throw the now-crushed little cart in the container for metal.

As I held onto the side rail and began to pull myself up, I watched in surreal horror and excruciating pain as my kneecap slid down my leg. I yelled out, but of course no one could hear me.

Finally I sat on the steps and lifted myself enough to go up a step. The pain in my knee wasn't as severe, as it was all redirected to my shoulder. I finally butt-crawled my way to the top of the stairs, sweating profusely, and was able to open the door to the apartment building's lobby. I stuck my head out the door and passed out.

After some time, the sweet lady who lived in the apartment next door came in from work.

"Call 911," I asked.

"Taxi cheaper!" she said, as there was a hospital only a block and a half away. I insisted, and she called them.

Paramedics arrived, strapped me down fully on their board and put on something to protect my head in case of concussion, I guess.

"Always wear clean underwear!" The old saying came to mind as I realized I hadn't showered in days.

Diagnosis: kneecap broken into three parts, collarbone broken in the same place I'd cracked it as a baby.

I felt sorry for the doctors, me smelling the way I must have, and still sweating profusely. An apology was offered and accepted.

I think I spent the night there, not really sure, but somehow I ended up in surgery and was fitted with a leg brace then sent on my way. Via taxi.

The cabdriver helped me up the four or five stairs to the elevator, and I slept for hours.

Next day my friend was due in; I have hazy memories of calling and telling him not to come, and of course he did. He let himself in with a key I'd given him a year or two prior.

Apparently I was hallucinating and my leg was very swollen. The doctor insisted I get back to the hospital, where they found I'd contracted Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus (MRSA), which required yet another surgery, to get rid of the infection.

Once that surgery was done, I remained in one of their very expensive beds. At some point one of their money-people came round, wanting me to sign something saying I'd pay. I refused, telling her I was broke. So she had me sign "something else." That, I discovered later, was the wrong place to sign.

--MORE LATER.--

Sorry I haven't added to this in a couple of days. It's been a real shitpile around here, with yelling directed at me about how "useless" and "evil" I am by my loving, True Christian™ sisters and the hateful idiot woman who comes over nightly to care for my mother.