Beaten into Literacy

So...my first memory of surgery was an appendicitis attack at 11. The night before I was crawling around on the kitchen floor, groaning, and my mother said, "Don't drink baking soda. If it's appendicitis you will die." Then they left for a dinner party. I was about to down a full glass of the stuff when my sister said, "You shouldn't drink that. You could die." The next day I had emergency surgery-memories blur but getting shaved down there hurt my feelings terribly and I consumed about ten cookies prior to anaesthesia but didn't'get sick. Later, I broke my arm, my shoulder, my elbow, wrist and had carpal tunnel surgery, etc. And two lonely, sad, abortions where I lied about someone waiting to take me home and left the clinics grieving, but aware that a drug addled, drunk, depressed mother would not be preferable to that sad, selfish pain.

December 27, 2016 I fall down the stairs holding all our bags attempting to escape my mom's house without waking her up. That worked but I severely hurt myself, breaking my leg and ankle and necessitating a 12 hour drive back to Chicago in a splint, on morphine and other drugs and in agony. We saw one surgeon who said, "I can't do this. It's a very serious injury. Don't google pilon fracture." Of course I immediately googled the thing and words like fusion, amputation, permanent damage, permanent nerve pain swam before my eyes. I had a 4.5 hour surgery January 4th in Skokie Hospital. They mistakenly sent my husband away so I couldn't say goodbye, they mistakenly neglected the morphine pump until I screamed for 6 hours and in the morning the head of the hospital apologised and some volunteer who kept nodding as I described the night of neglect and terror handed me a small blanket which she called "a caring blanket." Fuck you I didn't say.

3 months of not walking, colouring, staring out at the grey Chicago winter followed by a year of brutal Physical therapy and endless pain. So now, next week I'm going back to have the hardware removed. I have many screws and a bracket in my ankle. I am quietly terrified but also hopeful. I joined a FB group called Pilon Fractures Suck and I read about the rare few of us with this stupidly awful injury and feel gratitude mine isn't worse. It's bad enough but some people are really suffering and won't recover fully.

So, what have I learned, am learning? We are brutal to the slow, the handicapped, the elderly, the hurt. I have an amazing husband, son and friends. I LOVE swimming and will have that exercise to last me the rest of my life. I need to forget the neglect, the yelling, the sense that I was ruining someone's day by needing help, by my inconvenient injuries. It is deep in the pathways of my brain, lying on that cold kitchen floor alone, leaving the abortion clinic alone, recovering alone. Drinking to hasten the darkness. This isn't my reality anymore, I am loved, I am safe, I will recover and, hopefully, stop limping.