An accident.

[Part One.]

It's 6 PM on a Thursday in January. I'm still in the office, an extremely rare event. It had been a long day - I moved all of my stuff into a new office that I would be sharing with a member of my team, the reason for the move primarily being so my boss could come in every 5 minutes and annoy us both simultaneously (just a guess). Co-worker and I had also been working non-stop all day to prepare for an event that was kicking off the following Monday, and I'm now both mentally and physically exhausted. I'm sitting in my chair, feet up on my desk, waiting for my phone to charge and plowing a Clif bar into my hungry mouth.

Should I go to the gym? I think. I'm so tired. I just wanna go home and sit.

You're training for a half-marathon, some other brain cells pipe up. You need to be running like, every day, dummy. Go.

But like...I can go tomorrow after we do the event set up, I try to convince myself.

...

Okay, yeah. You're right. That's not fucking happening. FINE. Let's get this over with. 

I get to the gym, I hop on the treadmill, I flip the tv to Jersey Shore (I like to hatewatch while I work out), and I pound out a slow but satisfying 2.5 miles.

Back in the locker room, I hop on the scale, just for shits and gigs, and realize, I've lost seven pounds since the beginning of the month. Between not drinking (sup Drynuary) and forcing myself to exercise almost every day...it was paying off. And I was feeling good in my own skin for the first time in a while.

As I'm packing up to go, I check the transit app on my phone and realize I have just enough time to catch the bus that drops me off basically at the end of my street. So I don't change into my "outside clothes," but rather throw my jacket on over my running gear and head out.

The ground had gotten icy as fuck over the course of the early evening. The way I walk to the bus is primarily back roads, and although I'm taking it slow, there are a few almost comic moments where I lose my footing but manage to stay upright. I catch the bus more or less right on time, and take a moment to feel smug.

As I'm sitting on the bus, I wonder briefly whether or not I should at least change into my boots, but then get distracted by something extremely brilliant and witty someone's written on the internet.

Once off the bus, it's a short walk from the bus stop to my apartment. I'm doing fine, taking cautious steps. Once I reach the end of my street, there's an area where the sidewalk has been extremely icy pretty much since November. After almost slipping, again, I think, I really do not want to fall on this ice. I'm going to walk in the middle of the street where it's less icy.

I step off the curb.

Immediately, I slip.

As my left foot slides out from under me, I hear a loud CRUNCH as my leg twists, and I plummet to the ground, landing on my butt. The pain in my lower leg is instant, and blinding. I know something is very, very wrong and I begin to scream.

I must have yelled very loudly because all of a sudden, a man and a woman are hovering over me, looking very concerned. They're asking me questions and I can't think straight. I know I'm hurt pretty badly, and I definitely cannot move my left leg. I manage to convey two things, that I think I need an ambulance, and that I need to call my husband and let him know what happened.

The man dials 911 and the woman crouches by me as I dig my phone from my coat pocket and dial my spouse, who answers the phone sounding very amused, probably thinking that I locked myself out of the apartment. I stammer out the details of what happened, let him know that I am lying on the ground at the end of the street and he should probably get there soon.

A third person arrives to ask if he can do anything to help. Turns out he lives right across the street, and he quickly leaves and returns with a pillow and a large comforter. He lays the comforter over me as the other two people help me hoist myself up and put the pillow under my back. I am still very much in shock but manage to express my gratitude for these three strangers encircling me on this freezing cold evening while I lie on my back on the very ice that caused my fall.

A few minutes pass as the kind strangers are uncertain how to help me and I think I am making jokes at them because I am very stupid. My husband shows up and assists me in taking my messenger bag off, which is pinned underneath me. Suddenly, the fire department arrives, and two very kind firefighters are asking me questions.

Over the next 24 hours, I am going to be asked the following questions about 1,000 times each:

"What is your name?"

"What happened?"

"Where does it hurt?"

"Do you have any pain anywhere else?"

"Do you have any head pain?"

"Can you feel this?" (pinching toes)

"Can you move your toes?" (I wiggle my digits immediately)

This time, the first time, the firefighter also asks, "Does this hurt?" and presses about 1/3 of the way up my shin. In response, I yowl in pain.

"We're going to have to straighten your leg out," the firefighter explains. "Can you sit up?"

I slowly begin raising my upper body, trying to support myself on my elbows. My jacket has stuck to the ice, and I can feel the fabric slowly giving way as I move more and more upright. It hurts to move, and I haven't even shifted my leg yet. I've started to cry.

The two firefighters then gently take my leg and lift it. Bolts of white-hot pain are shooting through my shin, my ankle. I'm sobbing and wailing the entire time, as they start to place the leg in a splint they brought along with them. I've never felt this much pain in my entire life. My vision starts to darken and I pray I'm not going to pass out, and suddenly, it's over.

Meanwhile, an ambulance has showed up, pulled up right next to me (going the wrong way up my street and also blocking egress. Ambulances are badass). The firefighter is exchanging notes with one of the EMTs, who then asks me the Questions. The EMT turns to her colleague and says "Tib/fib," and her colleague agrees. Then she turns to me and says "Time to get you into the ambulance."

The strangers have since left, and I'm pretty sure I thanked them for their kindness. I see my husband looking on with concern as the EMTs position me to get up on the gurney. I also notice some neighbors have left their houses and are standing on the sidewalk, staring. Thanks so much for your help, I think, annoyed. Then I'm being moved and forget about anything but the pain in my lower leg as they slowly lift me up onto the gurney, and we go bump-bump into the ambulance.

My husband is seated up front. They're taking me to Mass General. The first EMT is on my right, making notes. The second EMT, on my left, is blessedly going through cabinets to find me some pain meds. I'm told later by my husband that he could hear me yelping in pain for most of the ambulance ride. Finally, an IV of Dilaudid is administered, and the relief is almost instant. I watch out the back window through eyes blurred with tears as we race across the city to the hospital.