As I held onto the sink in my kitchen, big hot tears formed in my eyes & 9 hours after breaking my foot, I cried. My shoulders shook as I gulped back the sobs, eventually letting out a hopeless wail, my injured foot now bound up in plaster of paris hung down from my knee, bent to prevent it touching the floor. I remembered I had a few cigarettes left in my sailing bag (I've enjoyed a love/hate relationship with cigarettes since I was 17 & although I'd given up last January a few social & post race cigarettes had crept back into my life recently, normally accompanied by a lovely glass of red wine). I inched my way around my kitchen, hopping & pulling my self from the sink to the cupboard, to the cooker until I reached the kitchen drawer that I kept a lighter in. After hopping & pulling myself back round to where the crutches were I made my way to the living room, sat down & lit the cigarette. Inhaling deeply, it didn't taste great, nor did it help with the pain but somehow it comforted me just to smoke it, whilst I tried to comprehend how much impact this injury might have on my life.
I work as a technical sales person for a connector company within the defence & aerospace industries, lots of blue chip customers & I normally drive on average 800-1000 miles per week. I reasoned with myself that one fractured metatarsal should only mean 6 weeks or so in plaster, perhaps a week off sick, then a few more working from home, I could get someone to drive me into the office for a week or so, yes this isn't too bad I concluded. Far from ideal but not a total disaster, Internet shopping for a while & maybe someone to help me walk my lovely cocker spaniel. I sent a text on my blackberry to my boss & emailed my dad & my gorgeous new boyfriend to let them know that I wasn't contactable on my Iphone as I realised that this had been left behind in Southampton. New boyfriend I guessed had probably been trying to contact me, to see how my day had gone with the new crew & might be worried that he hadn't received a reply.
I took a couple more co codamol & decided to try & get to bed, yep it was a struggle, the crutches felt alien & unco-operative as i tried to get upstairs, my foot dangled precariously in mid air as I limped, dragged & hopped my way up the stairs to bed.
I must have slept, but can't really remember going to sleep as such. It was 2.45 am when I looked at my bedside clock, the pain was excruciating. The bottom arch of my foot felt like it was on fire, with a hard knuckle or ball being driven into it. The top of my foot throbbed, pins & needles shot up & down my calf & shins. My toes were swollen unrecognisably & a sensation of hot stabbing pins intermittently affected the tips of them. I tried elevating my foot & lower leg on pillows, but this just seemed to increase the strength of the pain, nausea swept over me & I writhed around in bed just trying to somehow find a position that offered some relief. I can honestly say even after experiencing childbirth, a childhood kidney complaint that frequently caused renal infections, a horse riding accident that caused a badly broken arm & significant muscle damage I have never known pain like this !
Sweating profusely & absolutely at the point of despair with the pain, I pulled myself out of bed, grabbed the crutches & made my way down stairs. I stood at the top of the stairs pondering the safest & most painless way to get myself & the cumbersome crutches down them. Eventually I decided, sitting down & bum shuffling was the way to go. Once down, I again hobbled into the kitchen in search of a cigarette, I noticed the co codamol on the side & after reading the dosage instructions, took one more, hoping that this just might take the edge off of it. I held on to the sink, smoked the cigarette whilst tears again rolled down my face. All the while my mind was questioning the diagnosis at A & E, how on earth could just one fractured metatarsal cause me to be in this much pain ?
After I'd calmed down a bit, I made my way back into the living room, switched on the TV & aimlessly flicked through the channels to find something to distract me from the pain. I persevered for another hour or so but it was hopeless, back I went to the kitchen, another cigarette I lit, it tasted foul, it made my head spin, it did nothing for the pain but feeling as wretched as i did, I smoked it anyway. Again another wave of nausea & cold nerve tingling pins & needles came, this is no good I thought to myself, ring the hospital, this can't be normal. Anxiety & fear was creeping in at this point, it was nearly 4 am & I was on my own.
After a short time I was put through to the A&E sister on duty, I tried to explain to her what the pain was like & where it was, I also shamefully admitted I'd taken 3 co codamol within the last 3 1/2 hours, tears again rolled down my face in desperation & just bloody agony. She sounded tired & rather annoyed, she proceeded to lecture me about only taking prescribed pain killers as directed & then stated that the fracture I had was notoriously painful & I just had to bear it. So I did.
I work as a technical sales person for a connector company within the defence & aerospace industries, lots of blue chip customers & I normally drive on average 800-1000 miles per week. I reasoned with myself that one fractured metatarsal should only mean 6 weeks or so in plaster, perhaps a week off sick, then a few more working from home, I could get someone to drive me into the office for a week or so, yes this isn't too bad I concluded. Far from ideal but not a total disaster, Internet shopping for a while & maybe someone to help me walk my lovely cocker spaniel. I sent a text on my blackberry to my boss & emailed my dad & my gorgeous new boyfriend to let them know that I wasn't contactable on my Iphone as I realised that this had been left behind in Southampton. New boyfriend I guessed had probably been trying to contact me, to see how my day had gone with the new crew & might be worried that he hadn't received a reply.
I took a couple more co codamol & decided to try & get to bed, yep it was a struggle, the crutches felt alien & unco-operative as i tried to get upstairs, my foot dangled precariously in mid air as I limped, dragged & hopped my way up the stairs to bed.
I must have slept, but can't really remember going to sleep as such. It was 2.45 am when I looked at my bedside clock, the pain was excruciating. The bottom arch of my foot felt like it was on fire, with a hard knuckle or ball being driven into it. The top of my foot throbbed, pins & needles shot up & down my calf & shins. My toes were swollen unrecognisably & a sensation of hot stabbing pins intermittently affected the tips of them. I tried elevating my foot & lower leg on pillows, but this just seemed to increase the strength of the pain, nausea swept over me & I writhed around in bed just trying to somehow find a position that offered some relief. I can honestly say even after experiencing childbirth, a childhood kidney complaint that frequently caused renal infections, a horse riding accident that caused a badly broken arm & significant muscle damage I have never known pain like this !
Sweating profusely & absolutely at the point of despair with the pain, I pulled myself out of bed, grabbed the crutches & made my way down stairs. I stood at the top of the stairs pondering the safest & most painless way to get myself & the cumbersome crutches down them. Eventually I decided, sitting down & bum shuffling was the way to go. Once down, I again hobbled into the kitchen in search of a cigarette, I noticed the co codamol on the side & after reading the dosage instructions, took one more, hoping that this just might take the edge off of it. I held on to the sink, smoked the cigarette whilst tears again rolled down my face. All the while my mind was questioning the diagnosis at A & E, how on earth could just one fractured metatarsal cause me to be in this much pain ?
After I'd calmed down a bit, I made my way back into the living room, switched on the TV & aimlessly flicked through the channels to find something to distract me from the pain. I persevered for another hour or so but it was hopeless, back I went to the kitchen, another cigarette I lit, it tasted foul, it made my head spin, it did nothing for the pain but feeling as wretched as i did, I smoked it anyway. Again another wave of nausea & cold nerve tingling pins & needles came, this is no good I thought to myself, ring the hospital, this can't be normal. Anxiety & fear was creeping in at this point, it was nearly 4 am & I was on my own.
After a short time I was put through to the A&E sister on duty, I tried to explain to her what the pain was like & where it was, I also shamefully admitted I'd taken 3 co codamol within the last 3 1/2 hours, tears again rolled down my face in desperation & just bloody agony. She sounded tired & rather annoyed, she proceeded to lecture me about only taking prescribed pain killers as directed & then stated that the fracture I had was notoriously painful & I just had to bear it. So I did.
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