It was a Sunday morning like many others: making plans for spending the day together. My 10 yo. daughter wanted to go ice skating because she received a coupon in school and it was really a bargain for all of us (me, wife and 2 kids).
My last time with the ice boots was 25 years ago, but I found it very comfortable after several loops. I even managed to show my daughter some tricks. So far, it was very nice, and I really enjoyed it. Then some 30 minutes later, I started to speed up and in one damn turn, I fell to the ice, the weigth of my body completely on my leg and "crack" - I hear that horrible sound of bones broken. I managed to get out of the ice and people came to help me as I screamed like never in my life.
They took me the boot out and - to my surprise, it didn't hurt at all. It was a good sign, perhaps it wasn't so bad, I thought. But then, I put my two legs straight and I saw my right foot completely out of its axis, rotated almost 90 degrees and understand that it was really bad. My wife was very supportive, but she was busy calming down the kids too.
So we went to the hospital immediately. After the rx, the doctor said that my tibia was broken - the fibula was ok - and nor the ankle neither the knee were damaged, which he said it was good. But the tibia was fractured in a spiral way, and an operation was required to fix it. The doctor was young and he didn't want to decide it alone, so asked me to come back the next day and made an appointment with the trauma department chief. He put me a half cast and I went back home, 6 hours after the accident. Since he thought about an operation, he didn't want to put the feet in its right position.
That night was perhaps one of the darkest nights of my life. First of all, I was worried about the fracture. Was it serious ? Should I insisted for a second opinion right on that moment at the hospital ? If I get it fixed, will be everything ok ? Then, I started to think about all the plans I had for the coming weeks - work travels, meetings. I finally felt asleep, thinking about the fragility of the human body and all the help I would need from others in the coming weeks.
The next day, the specialist said that the operation was required, but it took 9 endless days to get to the operation. Finally, I got an LCP (locking compression plate) attached to the bone with 12 screws in different angles.
Now it is 2 weeks after the operation and 3 weeks after the accident. My mood is way better. I'll post some funny details of these weeks in the next post.
See you all,