Not that both groups don't have a thing for bones, although osteopaths at least in the beginning have some very different notions on that topic. You missed an acronym: I have had two fractures in my life, at least ones which were diagnosed; the first, on my sixteenth birthday, involved a knee to my left eye socket and resulted in an orbital fracture covering third base, bad bounce on a thrown ball, aggressive base runner.
In May, , there was apparently no requirement that PE teachers have any training in first aid; I lost consciousness and woke up vomitting, and my coach yelled at me for faking it. About twelve years ago I shattered the tip of my left ring finger getting it between a cow's head and something hard, and had to have my wedding ring cut off ; today I'm finally getting the ring replaced in time for my 25th wedding anniversary later this month. The worst musculo-skeletal damage I've sustained, again in PE, same teacher, was a severe sprain of the left ankle which left the joint unstable and prone to reinjury; it's now showing signs of both osteoarthritus and compromized vascular function.
We were doing gymnastics, vaulting over a horse, and she made me take off my glasses for safety reasons. Unable to see the ground, I misjudged my landing and came down with my entire weight on the outside edge of my foot. She screamed at me for being fat and clumsy, and was one of the teachers who demanded that I stop using crutches well before the injury had healed.
I'm pretty sure that was against the law even then. I think you had a teacher who should have been fired and had her teaching credential revoked permanently for endangering students. And also been sent for psych observation. I have another category of broken skin: She'd jumped up to hit a soccer ball with her head and come down wrong, been carried off the field, and, despite insisting it was just a sprain, was bleeding steadily from a wound on the outside of her ankle.
The ankle was incredibly swollen within a minute, which was worrying enough, but we managed to convince her to make an ER visit when the bleeding hadn't decreased despite pressure and ice after half an hour.
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The eventual diagnosis was that her ankle had briefly dislocated. A bone had thrust far enough out of alignment to break the skin, then snapped back into place.
She had to have surgery that night to repair the membrane that encapsulates the joint, which would be a very bad place to get an infection. She can walk on it now, and the physical therapist says total recovery is certain. If we had let her just go home, maybe not so much. Your experience mirrors my own. Broken metacarpal, right hand, extra knuckle and everything.
Not when I half-heartedly tried to put it back into place myself. Not after a trained professional drilled holes in it an laced it back together with a piece of wire. I always expected incredible pain with a broken bone. The most painful parts of the experience were having the stitches removed and getting the "pimp my skeleton" bills. You treat them out on the street the same way you treat an open fracture: Control the bleeding, then RICE, then splint it. It's about his being injured by an IED in Iraq in early The book includes photos of what his head looked like without some of his skull.
They also included an X-ray of all the crap that hit the upper part of his body.
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Fascinating and scary reading. I've only ever broken 2 bones - my collar bone from falling down a flight of stairs when I was 4 and a small bone in my left foot while wearing sandals with a tiny sole a few days before the '99 Nebs in Pittsburgh - I wound up in one of those "broken foot shoes" for most of the weekend. I don't remember much about the collar bone other than starting to fall, then, later, having my left arm in a sling and trying to do sewing cards one-handed. As to the foot, I didn't think it was broken as it only hurt when I walked on it.
It started to swell a little, so I went to the ER early in the evening. After about 5 hours, I finally got seen, got an X-ray and went home with crutches. Several years ago, my parents and I rented a lakeside house in Maine. As I was getting ready for bed, we heard a camp somewhere nearby singing.
My mother wanted to figure out the song, so she went out onto the pitch-black deck When the house shook and she screamed, I ran out to find her on her side on the deck. It later turned out she knocked a few slats out of the railing as she fell forward, but that kept her from plummeting down the drop to the lake. In emergencies, I have no brain; I go into "tell me what to do and I'll do it!
My father thinks he knows everything despite having no training , so he was trying to manipulate her swollen lower arm -- to see if it was broken!
I put my hand firmly on her shoulder to try to comfort and steady her and asked whether to call an ambulance or put her in the car and drive to the hospital. Stupid -- always call the ambulance, but see above about the no brain thing. She's an RN, so when she insisted on the car, I went with it, not thinking that the pain would have her confused and wanting to do something rather than lie there waiting.
We sped through the dark to the interstate, and I asked the toll booth attendant where the nearest hospital was! We were 20 or 25 miles away from Portland. About halfway there we saw a police car's lights flashing at the roadside. I don't know if I made the suggestion, but my mother asked please to stop and ask the officer for help. I naively figured he was assisting a stranded motorist; it was something more like a drug bust, so I'm impressed he didn't pull his weapon when a car stopped behind his cruiser and a woman in pajamas rushed towards him.
He called for an ambulance but warned it would be a bit because they were coming from I then irked the chief EMT or paramedic I'm not sure which she was by following her rig at Boston-area commuting distance.
It wasn't intentional -- no brain. My mother turned out to have a comminuted fracture of the proximal humerus, I think it was. So I was pressing right on the shattered break, but even knowing that, she says my father's fiddling hurt more. Anyway, the valuable lesson: Always know where the nearest hospital is -- but always call the ambulance. I'm sure the smart folks here know that, but it bears repeating. My brain was chanting "I don't wanna go to work.
I was headed down the stairs from my door, when I parted company with the staircase about 3 steps above the first landing. Knowing I was falling I tried to relax. The space was too close to try any sort of save, and trying to do so would have made the results worse. I hit the landing with my right leg folded under me.
My right ankle was under my left buttock and I heard a "pop" like the sound of two football players hitting each other.
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Did I mention I was wearing a backpack too? I figured I'd broken the ankle.
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So I crawled back up the steps, managed to get my apartment door open and crawled to the phone. The cats thought this was fascinating Did I call? Oh no, called my best friend, told her I thought I'd broken my ankle and could she please come drive me to the hospital? Bless her heart, she left work. In the meantime I realized I was wearing a brand new pair of Dockers, and I figured the folks in the ER would cut them off, and doggone it, I wasn't going to lose a new pair of pants I actually managed to get my shoes off, pull off the Dockers and put on a pair of sweatpants, and put my shoes back on!
When I finally got to the ER and they x-rayed the ankle, it turns out I'd torn 2 of the three ligaments. They put it in a soft cast and told me to stay off of it for 48 hours. After that I could use a walker. The bruise was spectacular, it really did turn almost black. I didn't find out until a couple of weeks later that I had jammed 13 vertebrae together. The chiropractor had a fun time working the spine back to it's normal form.
We take people over there from my hospital occasionally, to Maine Med.
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It's a bit tricky to find if you're from out of town. About a three-hour drive on two-lane blacktop for me; only the last little bit is on the interstate. Why are the stories on this thread making me shriek and cringe in imagined pain in a way that the other trauma and emergency posts haven't done?
Yes, I have broken bones before non-dominant wrist, two separate occasions, playground and backstage falls, and a bone in my foot, stair slippage but I've also lived through some of the other trauma stuff heat and cold problems particularly and those don't nearly make me cringe the same way! Rikibeth 40, I'd hazard a guess that these stories describe real tangible pain more than the others have. My friend Matt tore his ACL. In a rock band accident. Matt was the bassist for a metal band. They were playing a show one night, to a really excited crowd.
When Matt's playing a show, he gets all rock star, jumping around with his bass. This is funny, because ordinarily Matt is a giant nerd, just like me. The problem that night was that the lead singer had put down an uncapped bottle of water on Matt's amp. It got knocked over. And Matt, jumping around with his eyes closed, slipped in it and landed such that he tore his knee. He finished the rest of the song, playing his bass, lying on his back in a puddle of water.
When the song was over, his bandmates said "Man, get up. The song's over, you can stop being a rock star and playing your bass lying down. He played the rest of the show sitting in an office chair dragged from backstage. Then, and only then, did they take him to the ER. He was disappointed when he had surgery and was told he was not getting an ACL from a cadaver. He'd hoped to become part zombie. Funny this came up. Bike accident, walked around the corner, one guy lying on ground, unconscious, wrapped around bike, with the other guys who weighed 75 pounds soaking wet trying to pick him up.
Guy 1 off to hospital on a backboard, with c-collar, etc. Guy 2 walked away carrying his bike.