Bad News

I managed to keep my leg elevated and still over the weekend.  I had taken a summer job doing evaluations for special education preschoolers and was on a time crunch to get many reports typed up in a short timeline, so I kept busy doing that.  I went to work on Monday and painfully finished my meetings and paperwork.  The orthopedist's office called me back and the only available appointment they had was Tuesday at 10:30.  I had a meeting at 10:30 and couldn't make it.  The scheduler said they had no more openings until the end of the week and with a Tibial Plateau surgery, I needed to be seen right away.  I had to finish my summer job, so I told them to find the next appointment available.  After I got off the phone, my awesome coworkers had heard the conversation and told me that they would cover the meeting and that I needed to go to the appointment, so I called the office back and set the appointment for Tuesday at 10:30.

Over the weekend, I had done some research on Tibial Plateau fractures.  The treatment varies widely, depending on what's going on...from fractures on the plateau which would require a brace for awhile, but that's it...all the way to surgery requiring plates and screws and hospital stays.  I had convinced myself that I wasn't very injured.  Really it wasn't that painful, except for the swelling.  I'd never broken a bone before, so I was good.  But the weekend was very difficult for me emotionally.  If you've never been able to do things and had to rely on others for everything, it's very hard.  I'm very independent and don't like to sit and do nothing.

Spending my weekend relying on everyone and doing nothing. 

Stan picked me up and took me to the appointment.  We went to the doctor's office that was approved by our "awesome" new insurance.  (very sarcastic tone there)  It was almost like sitting at the DMV.  Packed with people and waiting and waiting.  Finally, they called me back.  I hobbled back on my walker and met the doctor.  He was a good personality and seemed easy to talk to.  I explained to him what happened and then he pulled up my X-rays.  It took him about 2 seconds to say "you need surgery."  My jaw probably dropped to the floor and I bawled and bawled.  I couldn't believe what I was hearing.  He was showing Stan and I the X-rays.  First, the fractures on the plateau.  Then he started signing that old Sesame Street song, "One of these things is not like the other, one of these things doesn't belong..." I just told him they looked the same to me.  Then he pointed out the part of the X-ray where the tibia and femur meet.  There should be very little space between the two.  The right side of my tibia had shifted more than 5 mm from where it should be and needed surgery.  Stan asked if he would be able to wait until after Hawaii. He said if we waited, more damage could be done.  He said since it had happened on Saturday, he would like to do it tomorrow (Wednesday) if he had an opening in his schedule, but if not Wednesday, then definitely Friday. But he said by the time we went to Hawaii, which was 25 days from that day, I would still be non weight bearing, but I wouldn't have pain and I could possible get in the water.   I don't remember much after that, other than crying most of the way home.

My Xray.  The right side towards the middle shows a fracture line.  The left side shows too much space between tibia and femur. That's the part that needs surgery to pull them together. 

The next could of days were spent getting ready for surgery and finishing up my summer job.   Of course battling with insurance was a lot of fun and I'm praying they pay for everything.