The Beginning

This is the tale of an unimaginable accident and the subsequent journey it has taken me on. First the Facts. November 29,2009 my husband Craig and I tested our new skates at the Olympic Oval in Richmond, British Columbia. The serrated edges on my figure skates caused me to take a forward tumble after about 45 minutes on the very ice Apollo Ohno will be speed skating in February 2010. I hit my head on the ice, teeth went through my upper lip, and being a nurse, remained face down assessing the viability of my teeth. They were sore but intact. My next thought was 'damn, my exercise program'! I am an avid practitioner of Pilates and have always been a gym rat. I turned over to my back, dazed and ready to cry. A gentlemen immediately stopped - I later presumed he was probably a physician - to assess if I had a head injury. I was soon surrounded by the emergency technicians of the Oval (former lifeguards and all cute from what I could tell). Being the first injury of the day, they jumped into action, excited to demonstrate their lifesaving prowess. My goodness, there were a ton of them and my circumference was secured by orange pylons. Secure the area gentleman. My head was stabilized, and after 20 minutes they determined I should be moved to the first aid station. There was one problem. I couldn't move either arm. Craig's reaction: I should have taken a picture.

Lifted off the ice, placed in a wheelchair and taken to the first aid station, it was determined through my urging I was without a head injury and signed a release. Who knew if I had a head injury because don't think the horrible accident of Natasha Richardson didn't cross my mind. Helped into my coat, two flimsy and gauzy slings were secured and it was apparent these guys had little training. Who cares...the appropriate level of empathy was there. Being the determined soul that I am, and knowing how disappointed Craig was, I offered to go sit out the day in the bleachers and eat the picnic we had packed. Fortunately Craig possessed the logic I was lacking at the time and determined we should head immediately to the hospital back in Bellingham. I had little discomfort but lacked any range of motion or feeling whatsoever. Am I dumb or what.

Upon arriving approximately 35 minutes later, I went throught the obligatory reception and registration and subsequently had to suffer in a waiting room full of probable H1N1 patients. Craig has a sickness phobia so I told him to head out to Trader Joe's and do some shopping. Meanwhile, I eventually ended up in a room with another nursing assessment. I am a registered nurse and know just enough to be dangerous. I didn't practice for many years in my career though administered large medical groups and know health care systems inside and out - my career specialty was reorganization - so I always appreciate well run systems. We are very impressed with our local facility but I won't go into that. Now, some of you may know it is healthcare accrediation law to assess and treat the level of pain a patient is experiencing. But after 3 interviews by RN's and a pain level now of about 7 (on a 1-10 scale - you figure it out), I didn't receive anything until the ER doc came in. Then it was about 1/2 hour after that. Overall it was a smooth process however I can only imagine inner city hospitals. Maintain your health, support health care reform and pray you never have a pre-existing condition. Health care is not a commodity to profit from and I dare anyone to debate me on this subject.

I was radiographed with 3 views to each arm, diagnosed, and sent on my way with a referral to the orthopedist on call who happened to be a shoulder specialist. Splints were placed, we came home and took a picture. Oh yes, I did have to call Craig from the examining room to ask where the hell he was - I was dying for the ham sandwich and he had left me. Visions of Barcelona. More on that later. Thus, the journey has begun.