It's now 326 since the accident that changed my life and I am home trying to keep to a new routine of eating well, resting and exercising with Darren when he comes around.
I've got no metal in my body at the moment, I can't walk at all but I have a date of Nov 4 for the fusion of my ankle. I'm confined to a cast to keep the bones still but I can tell there is a lot of movement and broken bits in there that are so painful I am not sure what the best of anything is to do about, well, anything.
I find out later that's because there are still broken bones, and micro movements cause pain. Hence movement causes pain. Pain. Lots of it.
I push on amidst days of no pain relief, days of CBD oil, and some days of heavy medication to manage psychotic pain that would kill an elephant, I am certain of it.
The workouts feel good, it's all fairly basic, free weights while sitting in a chair but anything to keep the blood coursing through my body feels better than laying around leg motionless, trying not to move or think about the pain it causes. I keep going to acupuncture with Dr Panda and honestly all I am really doing is counting down until the next operation. The fusion.
I cancel a couple of workouts due to pain and days just merge into weeks again, constant serious pain keeps me from doing fuck all and I am really edgy, angry, and frustrating as hell to live with. I've moved back into the Master Bedroom and the hospital beds and aides have been removed, but I still have to use the stupid knee scooter to get around. Even the weight of the doona is unbearable on my left leg and I can't lay still, constantly thrashing and moving and moaning keeping Scotty awake.
Bonnie is a constant source of affection and joy, she is almost one year old now, and it's almost a full year since the accident.
I'm seriously miserable and need a friend, so Bear comes to the rescue again. We sit out on the deck smoking and drinking Red Bull and Coke and talking about good times, all the riding, the racing each other, the fun stuff we used to do.
He's fucking ace, I completely forget about the pain for those couple of hours. He keeps encouraging me to push on, don't worry about it you'll be riding again. Don't chop it off. He says all the right things and I know he's right but the pain is overbearing most days, a few hours is a releif, but it doesn't take long before my reality kicks back in. I wish he'd visit more often but he has his own job, family, life...
My trauma diary reads like a nightmare, page after page diarising severe pain, triggers of pain, loads of pain killers and days of sleep or nothing at all.
Finally, get to see Dr DS again and he has advised there is no infection in the bones or the leg after the biopsies he was able to get while doing the metal removal surgery.
He also tells me I have another fracture in the Talus, a maleola fracture my diary says. That is the third additional fracture since the initial accident, no wonder I'm in constant pain. But, this is a good thing apparently because with that small detail he can fast track my fusion surgery which has been postponed due to the fucking pandemic, and we have a booking to get this shit done on the 10th of November. I can't wait, anything has to be better than this.
The 10th of November 2020 rolls on a full year after the accident and I have just woken up after the Fusion surgery, this has got to be around surgery number 10 but I can't remember or count them accurately because the pain is back to level 11. Possibly 12.
More subcutaneous oxycodone injections that do nothing, I know from experience now that I need a nerve block or god help me, more Ketamine.
Nothing else will do it, it's the nerve pain from being caused by being carved open and having titanium ripped from bones, nerves damaged that are already so damaged that CRPS has got me bad.
It takes a few hours of screaming, crying and more and more subcutaneous oxy before they realise that Ketamine is going to work, instead of trying to find out why no one is listening to me I just go with it and I'm given a full leg nerve block and drip of Ketamine and a whole bunch of oral tablets I have lost track of.
That's a puncture hole from a nerve block.
The trauma diary and degredation in hand writing tells the story better. I've even managed to fuck the dates up, these are all November, not October.
It's the 12th of November now, two days since the fusion and they have discovered a new oral medication that should help with the nerve pain as I have such a bad reaction to ketamine, it's called Amitriptyline and used to be for depression but is a highly effective nerve pain relief tablet. Still coming down from ketamine but feeling better, the nerve block has worn off and I can feel my leg again. It feels better! Miraculous.
It's the 13th of November and I'm in a cast and home again. I'm totally off my food, don't even want cheeseburgers. I can't weight bear at all, so back on the knee scooter for transport and I feel nauseous all the time, I don't feel like eating because of it, I know this is bad but I can't stomach anything. It's the fucking ketamine comedown from hell. Apart from some of the vivid trips that shit is absolutely awful and I think again to myself, how can anyone actually want to do that voluntarily? There are so many better options.
A dear friend I have had for many years since my corporate life, Anthena, comes to the rescue with yummy wog food that I love, lots of yummy salads and pickles and fresh stuff that gets my hunger going and we eat and laugh and try to be normal, but I can see the distress on her face for me, she puts on a brave face and keeps it very light and fluffy and we have a lovely day until the pain takes control again and I have to go hit the meds and go back for a sleep at something ridiculous like 3pm. God I love that woman!
She was there for me when I had the MS relapse and Scotty was in Adelaide working, she held my hand for hours after the lumber puncture and I was laying dead still numb from the feet up unable to move. She is always there for me. I owe her much and she expects nothing in return except my friendship. The best kind of human.
Another month goes past and it's early December now, I haven't been able practise Target Shooting due to the cast and restrictions of movement, but Bear keeps dropping in and keeping me company, lifting my spirits when I am sometimes the most depressing person I've ever known.
I've stopped working out, lost my support worker for reasons I won't go into here, but have found a simple pain medication routine since the fusion operation that seems to be working. It's a slow release painkiller, still oxycodone based, called Targin, which combined with the Amyltriptaline it keeps things kinda bearable.
I am starting to think this is going to work and there will be life after accident.
The cast comes off at last and I can see my new scars. Neat!
My big and second toe are now permanently locked in a claw position and my leg is so emaciated its a shock to see but I can tell that this feels better than anything else has so far, we do some scans and check out my new metalwork and from previous scans it sure does look neater, more solid but there is this really weird rigidity I have never felt before. My ankle is locked at 90 degrees and I'll never be able to bend it again.
Dr DS points out the serious lack of fusion and fractures running through my bones but he feels confident that these will heal with time now it is fused.... I have to keep perspective and even though it has been a year now and there is a long way to go, I still have two feet and Dr DS feels confident this is going to work.
So I'm trying hard to believe in him and stay the course.
**The story continues, drop me a sub with your email below to get the next post delivered by email.
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