Let me start by sharing a beautiful San Diego sunset. One of the perks of camping at Mission Bay RV Resort is the spectacular sunsets. They’re addicting. I’ve always appreciated Mother Nature’s nightly show, but I’ve seldom had an unobstructed view like we have here.
The sunsets are just one of the many reasons Mission Bay RV Resort is a snowbird’s dream. This snowbird is crazy about it – so is Other Half, although he’s more reserved with his crazy.
Another reason we are crazy about Mission Bay RV Resort is its proximity to a stellar ER. Location of an emergency room is not something we generally pay attention to, but when you need one you need one.
This past Sunday night – I needed one.
In my family we are blessed with a trait we call the “clod gene.” The clod gene shows up at the most inopportune times — like when you’re walking across a crowded room wearing a skirt and heels, and a piece of lint trips you up — or you’re carrying a heaping plate of grilled chicken breast and the sliding glass door shows up out of nowhere.
My siblings and I have lots of clod gene stories. The good news is the clod gene seldom leads to anything more serious than a red face, except in my case Sunday.
Last Sunday I was innocently heading out the door to take Rigby for her nightly walk. Next thing I knew, I was sprawled out on the asphalt with my left foot in a weird, unnatural position. I knew my ankle was broken. The clod gene struck hard.
Other Half tracked down the campground security guards and called 911. I had one request – please no lights and no sirens. It’s embarrassing enough to have fallen out of the Big Rig, the last thing I wanted was extra attention.
Within minutes a fire truck, lights flashing came flying into the campground followed by a rescue squad, also with lights flashing. Thankfully, no sirens. We didn’t expect a fire truck, but I guess it’s standard operating procedure.
Source: Google Images
The paramedics stabilized my ankle, loaded me into the ambulance and headed to Scripps Memorial Hospital in LaJolla, California. Other Half followed in the Equinox. Scripps ER got me right in and within minutes the x-rays were done.
You know you’re in trouble when your x-rays result in a powwow of somber faced docs. The net result of the powwow was — spend the night, see the Orthopedic surgeon in the morning, and have surgery as soon as an operating room is available.
The whole thing was a whirlwind. We didn’t expect things to happen at the pace they did, but I’m not complaining. By Monday evening I was in recovery. I’m now officially a member of the titanium plate club. The surgery was expected to be 1.5 hours but turned out to be 2.5 hours. I spent the next 36 hours in a private room being cared for by an amazing crew.
Came home today in a cast with a walker and pain meds. I’m in for an extended recovery. I’m bummed my bike riding is on hold and I’m doubtful I’ll be hitting my 10,000 steps a day any time soon.
All things considered, this experience is turning out as good as could possibly be expected. (I’m trying hard not to be a whiner.)