Pedestrian Knockdown

Three weeks ago at 8:15am I was hit by a car while walking my dog. They say that life can change in an instant and boy is that true.

All of a sudden I was knocked to the ground and looked down to find my foot dangling from the top of my favorite now bloody canvas hi tops. I pulled my dog close to me (thankfully he was not hit) and took out my phone to call my husband Phil. I had so much adrenaline that I remember banging his number on the keypad only to realize I needed to enter my passcode first. Adrenaline is real.

My second dial was my childhood friend Blake (not Lively) who lived around the block. She answered and immediately walked over. Five seconds later I saw my husband walking toward me. I remember seeing the look on his face while he tried to make sense of what just happened.

When the ambulance finally arrived (which felt like an eternity) they told me I had to go to the nearest trauma hospital after looking at my exposed bone and tissue laying on the street next to me. I saw the damage but was not registering the pain. My body and mind were still in shock.

Thankfully a coworker of Phil’s was walking by and we were able to pass him our dog to walk home to our kids so we could head in the ambulance.

Our daughters were home (off from school that day) so Blake ran there until my parents and in laws arrived from Long Island.

Once we were in the ambulance the pain kicked in which got worse with every New York City pot hole as I could feel my bones shaking around. When we arrived at Bellevue we were greeted by prisoners in orange jumpsuits which was a welcome distraction from all of the pain. Apparently the 14th floor of Bellevue is for inmates who need medical attention.

They wheeled me past the orange jumpsuits, and explained that they had to get my bone back under my skin to avoid infection. I asked them to put me out (I had just had a colonoscopy the week prior and the twilight sleep was lovely). Unfortunately, they said I had to be awake but they could give me something for the pain. I will never forget the sounds I heard a grown man make in Vail Mountain hospital when the doctors were putting his dislocated shoulder back in place. Based on that experience I knew I had to send Phil out of the room for what would happen next.

Holy fucking shit whatever fentanyl they gave me was no match for my pain. My hands grasped the sides of the hospital bed as I screamed bloody murder for the next 5-10 minutes it took them to do this. I had both of my daughters via c section so I felt like I had always avoided labor pains. I now know what so many women go through in childbirth.

Immediately after setting my leg it was time for a full body CT scan to ensure I had no other injuries. They told me they would have to cut all my clothes off and get me into a hospital gown. I surveyed my body and realized I was wearing my Gorsuch shearling vest. Not the Gorsuch!! I had already lost my navy High Sport pants in this debacle and my army green Palladium boots were cut off at the scene.

If you are familiar with Gorsuch you understand why I was willing to immediately arch my back up and rise from my hospital bed like Jesus Christ while wearing a neck brace in order to save the vest. Gorsuch is a heavenly store in fancy snow towns. Ever since my first trip out west 15 years ago I have aspired to purchase something from Gorsuch. Last March they were having a big sale and I decided to buy a beautiful beige ish blush vest. My first and only purchase from that store. Every time I wear it I feel like a fancy lady in her mid 60s and I am living!!! I also now receive their twice a year mail order catalog which always makes me reminisce about my JCrew catalog merchandising days.

My husband was back in the room for the vest outburst which I am hoping gave him a brief moment of levity to know that I was still there mentally despite my physical injury.

It seems silly to be discussing things I was wearing during the accident but I think it is a defense mechanism to avoid facing the reality of what happened. I have always cracked jokes during the sad parts of life.

After they reviewed the X-rays they explained that the bones were still not in place and they would have to reset my leg again. WTF. After more fentanyl and two minutes of howling another doctor came over and suggested they give me ketamine. Whoa. I was desperate so we gave it a whirl. Thirty seconds later it hit my veins I professed my love to this savior of a female doctor and completely disassociated. They could have chewed off my leg and thrown it out the window and I would have had no idea.

Well that was fun. Now I was off to surgery to have my external fixator put in. If you don’t know what that is consider yourself lucky. They inserted two metal rods through my heel and one through my shin, attaching them to outer rods around my leg. Think hell raiser meets Tribeca mom. It wasn’t great, but I had no choice. I was lucky I was alive and grateful that the doctors had this temporary solution until the next surgery.

I ended up staying at Bellevue for three days. I’m not sure I would use the word “fun” when describing my experience there, but one of my many roommates was a female pro wrestler who also broke her leg. I LOVED talking to her.

I am not really sure what this substack is going to be about yet, but I know it is going to be about all of the people I have met and spent time with on this recovery journey.

I am so lucky that I am alive. I am grateful to my body for its incredible ability to heal.

I am so grateful for the community of people that have carried my family and I through the last three weeks.

Human beings are amazing and people have been so kind.

I’ve have twelve more weeks of recovery so I am hoping to share more. In the meantime , thank you. To all of you. God is good.