About Me

WELL THIS WAS UNEXPECTED

I went for a most delightful walk yesterday – up to Fluted Cape on Bruny Island. I’ve done the walk several times and absolutely love it. The descent along the cliff tops is truly spectacular.

As we commenced the downhill, cliff edge, unbelievably beautiful descent, my friend commented on my boots – saying how great it is to have non-slip shoes. Then I slipped. I really have no idea of the exact details. But you know how when you fall down everything goes into slow motion? That was what happened. I knew I was going to land on my butt and there was nothing I could do to prevent it. I went down and I turned my ankle.

It really fucking hurt.

Now we were faced with the big question – how to get back to the car. I was adamant I could walk on it, so with the help of my friend’s arm, a rustic stick, and the onboard remnants of a small cocktail of drugs I’d taken the day before, I started the painful descent down. The 30 minute walk took two hours.

I took off my sports top and my friend used it to create a makeshift pressure bandage. I wore my jacket instead. I used whatever was at hand to steady me – stick, rock, tree trunk, an outreached arm. Made it to the bottom in one piece without passing out.

When we got to the bottom I dangled my foot in the icy cold Tasmanian waters while my friend went in search of whatever we needed to do next – which began with a 25-minute run back to the car. I’m very grateful for her strength, stamina and fitness levels.

Half an hour or so later, the exact thing I did not want appeared – police officer, nurses, paramedics, SES workers. We were now a party of eight. And not a single glass of champagne in site. The only absent service was the fire brigade – they offered to call them in if I wanted the full compliment of emergency services.

If they weren’t bringing me a gin and tonic, I wasn’t interested in more onlookers.

Everyone conferred and chatted about this and that, took some obs, wrapped me in a hundred blankets, and gave me some morphine. Then they called a helicopter. I would rather they ordered fish and chips but alas, my opinion didn’t seem particularly valid.

I zimmer-framed my way to the helicopter landing then plopped myself into a seat where the nice police officer strapped me in like a toddler. We took off, I waved farewell to my new friends, flew over the top of my house, and fifteen minutes later we were back in the city. I elected to go to the private hospital as sitting in the waiting room at the public hospital for the rest of my natural life didn’t seem like much fun. Turns out I was the only patient in the emergency department at the private hospital.

X-ray shows a fractured something or other in my foot – bottom of my fibula.

When they started talking about an orthopedic consultant, I thought, No. No. No! Please God! No orthopedic intervention required! And then they came back to say the orthopedic surgeon said let’s give the moonboot a go for a week and see if that helps. I visit the surgeon in a week’s time.

I refused the moonboot. Well – not entirely refused. I just refuse to get it Friday – I have better things to do (like go back to Bruny Island for my four three nights of rest and recreation, and writing, writing, writing. My goal is to finish the final draft of the memoir while I’m there. I’ll pop in for the moonboot on Monday once I’m back.) They’ve put a back slab on until I get the moonboot. To get a back slab on I was told I could either remove my gym tights first, or cut them off later on – as they weren’t going to fit over the cast. I assured them Lululemon tights do not get cut off, so I removed them before they put the cast on. Removing pants in the emergency department means walking to the car in a jacket and undies. I used my friend’s rain jacket as a makeshift skirt. I looked ultra sexy.

So now I have my first broken bone. I declare it heals before 01 December, because I then have a seven-day hike on the overland track and I don’t want to miss out. Everyone keeps laughing at me – apparently doing the overland track five weeks after breaking a bone in my foot is not practical. We’ll see…