The Accident Story - Part Two: “Pins & Puberty”

Day 133

Why am I smiling? Don't I realize I'm in a hospital?!

Being 12 isn’t easy for anyone, as it is often the onset of adolescence, the beginning of puberty and the first step towards the teenage years and young adulthood. Anyone who has lived through puberty knows what I mean, and I would be safe in assuming that no one would want to go through that again! I know I wouldn’t!

What the heck is this contraption?!

For me, life at 12 was difficult enough with adolescence, but there was the added strain of recovering from an accident. At 12 I was in the Idaho Falls hospital, laid up in traction, with pins protruding from my legs, with ropes extended around my bed and attached to weights at the end of the bed. I was immobilized, trapped, and on public display.

Now please don’t get me wrong - I loved having visitors! I loved having family and friends from all over come and visit me. I was spoiled with love and attention, with concern and affection. It helped me to not feel sorry for myself and to avoid the spell of depression and bitterness. But with all of the visitors there was a distinct lack of privacy, and while this can be uncomfortable for anyone just imagine dealing with that during the various stages of puberty!

For example, I remember how weird it was to be given sponge baths, having special shampoo lathered into my head (that did not require any water to rinse it out!); but it was especially weird to have this done by nurses--practically strangers! And one day a nurse made a comment that embarrassed me to the core! She said something to the effect of “somebody’s going through puberty!” as she was cleaning me. ‘Nuff said! If I could have walked, I would have leaped from the bed and escaped the hospital right then and there! But I got over the humiliation and let go of my inhibitions, realizing I was in the care of professionals. Well, almost everyone was professional (but more on that later!)

Another aspect of the lack of privacy - ahem...bedpans and urinals. I had to get over my inhibitions real quick with this or else suffer from major intestinal and bladder-related issues! Once I was comfortable with this I didn’t feel embarrassed or bothered. It was all very matter-of-fact, and I’m grateful that my family and friends didn’t do anything to make me feel self-conscious.

How could I ever repay my family and friends for all of their love and support?

Life in the hospital was quite good for the most part. I was never alone, with my dad and my mom taking turns to be with me (Mom would be with me in the daytime, Dad in the evening). There wasn’t a whole lot for me to do except read and watch TV. Since it was October my dad had the World Series on TV each night. But we would also watch shows like L.A. Law (I think this was the first season of the show). In the daytime I watched a lot of older shows: The Patty Duke Show, The Doris Day Show, The Courtship of Eddie’s Father, Please Don’t Eat the Daisies, The Flying Nun and Family Affair. Hey, I had a lot of time to kill during the day!

I mentioned that I had a lot of family and friends visit me, and one time I was visited by another boy who was in the hospital. He was about my age and his name was Jason. We both loved Garbage Pail Kids, so we would spend a lot of time talking about them, about our collections of these cards/stickers. One day a nurse came in and told Jason it was time for his blood test and he got very upset and started to cry. I didn’t quite understand what the big deal was about this, since I was used to needles.

Now, I don’t proclaim to be a big, rough ‘n’ tough guy who has an amazing tolerance for pain. On the other hand, I don’t consider myself to be a wimp. I feel like I was a good patient at the hospital and I hope I wasn’t difficult or impossible to deal with; I didn’t get any complaints from the nurses, so I think I was a model patient. But in the eyes of my doctor, I must have seemed like the biggest wimp ever. My doctor (I won’t divulge his name, so I’ll call him something else), Dr. Evil, was a very impatient, stern, forceful man. He had zilch when it came to a bedside manner. He was especially hard on me, often times yelling at me when I would mention any pain or discomfort. He was a real [choose your own expletive here!]

Why didn't traction stretch me out and make me 6 feet tall?!

One day Dr. Evil was really ragging on me, calling me names and then he shook my legs. Suddenly I felt a tremendous shot of pain and I started to cry. As it turned out, the shaking of my legs caused the pins in my right leg to rip out! I had to have immediate surgery to fix this. Now, my memories beyond this incident are sketchy and unclear. I know that my parents fired Dr. Evil and got a new doctor for me, and he was so nice and considerate.

Aside from this experience, I was blessed with great support. The nurses were all so nice and helpful. I continued to have visits from family and friends. My dad and my mom were constant companions for me. And I began to have visits from my school tutor, Mrs. Louise Twitchell, and she was so nice and cool and helpful!

I was in the hospital for 3 or so weeks. Then it was time for another surgery, to remove the pins and to be put into a body cast. And then I’d be able to go home!