Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall.
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the king’s horses and all the King’s men
Could not put Humpty together again.
Like Humpty Dumpty, Leah (me) had a great fall. I was luckier than the egg. Dr. Chole, 32, an orthopedic surgeon in Nice, put me back together.
After this whopper of a crash, she had multiple pieces to repair. I suffered an open break of the femur. The bone on my right leg broke in several places above a knee prothesis. And, I broke and dislocated my left shoulder. During my 72-day hospital stay, I fell again and fractured the sacrum and pelvis.
It was challenging enough to cope with the damage and pain, but there was more grief to follow. About a month after my fall, my precious husband Bob died. He had been suffering from Alzheimer and living in a care home following his great fall last December. (see previous post, “Christmas without the Merry”)
I visited daily until disaster hit. He became very ill due to an infection. I was bedridden, immobile in a hospital. No way to visit. I was devastated, heartbroken. I needed, wanted to be with him. (More about Bob in my next post.)
Here’s the sorry story of my great fall: On June 7, as usual I was stressed and in a rush. I unloaded grocery bags near the elevator in the building basement, parked the car, and came back to proceed to the apartment. My mind and eyes were somewhere else. I tripped and fell over the bags, flying into a wall. I tried to get up. Impossible. I panicked, screamed, yelled for help. Finally, a resident came and called an ambulance.
First step: Give that woman drugs. They did, and I don’t remember anything after that until Dr. Chole in the Pasteur hospital emergency room explained my injuries and said she would operate.
I was told by a neighbor that the ambulance crew spent more than an hour before moving me. They called for a portable X-ray machine to make sure I had not broken my back. Apparently there was a lot of blood from the open break.
All unbeknownst to me. I woke up in the recovery room. What had I done? My leg, and arm and shoulder were enclosed in some type of heavy-duty armor. I could barely move.
For the next two- and one-half weeks I was bedridden at the hospital, but not without more trauma. Three days after the orthopedic surgery I suffered an intestinal occlusion. This meant another operation. Fortunately a very skilled surgeon performed laparoscopy. Unfortunately, during that surgery the repaired shoulder was moved which undid the repair work. I would need another shoulder surgery.
This can’t be real. A tsunami of tragedy and bad luck. If I hadn’t been taking strong pain killers (opioids), I might have cracked.
A week later, surgery #3. This time Dr. Chole performed a reverse shoulder replacement.
.
I had tubes in my arms, one in my nose, another in my bladder—all very unpleasant. As I lay there day after day, I thought about Bob who has suffered, and at that time was still suffering, tremendously. I thought about soldiers, their bodies ripped apart by war. How many surgeries did they endure? Would they ever be normal?… I can do this.
Comic relief lightened the load at times. Julie, a bright, bouncy young aide sang along with Tina Turner bellowing from her phone as she worked. She liked to practice her English.
One morning as she was giving me a sponge bath, she handed me a wash cloth with the command, “Please refresh your pussy.” Did she say what I think she said? Plenty of laughs instantly chased away the blues. I explained and gave a quick English lesson.
The professor doctor, the intestinal surgeon who spoke good English, arrived most mornings with his entourage of diligent students. I had repeatedly asked him to remove the nasty tube in my nose. “You need to poop and fart first,” he replied. I laughed, not expecting a distinguished professor to use such terms. We then had a discussion on more acceptable terminology for these bodily functions.
I left Pasteur, the hospital in Nice about 50 minutes from my apartment, and moved to a rehabilitation hospital in Menton, not far from Cap Martin where I live.
There was not much rehab during the first few weeks. I was basically still immobile. With relief and joy, after too many weeks I shed those dreadful cast- like contraptions.
With my improvement came daily therapy sessions. Therapy also included weekly meetings with a psychometrician, and an occasional session with a psychologist.
The therapy room is spacious, bright and filled with all sorts of equipment. A large staff of qualified therapists tend to patients who practice walking on tracks with parallel bars, work out on exercise bikes, follow sessions of chair exercises and more. Eventually I was able to go to the therapy pool for water exercise, my favorite.
Many patients are old like me, recovering from falls. But there are also young, some learning to walk on artificial limbs. This puts it all in perspective.
I enjoyed the therapy, but definitely suffered from cabin fever. Thanks to my brother Steve and his wife Yoshie, I escaped the hospital on August 18. They arrived from Boulder to help and take care of me for a month.
I sent them on errands They were a team, Steve driving my 4 speed Suzuki and Yoshie navigating. Steve was not thrilled with the driving in these parts: lots of narrow, one way streets; a multitude of tourists, and even more motorcycles and scooters. Not for the faint of heart.
I never would have survived without them. We ordered supplies from Amazon to create a handicap friendly environment in my apartment. Steve was skilled in assembling all. Yoshie was my nurse extraordinaire.
It’s wonderful to be back in my apartment. I enjoy the company of my two cats, a stupendous view of the sea and mountains — and freedom. I return to the rehab center three afternoons per week for several hours of different types of therapy.
Recovery is slow, too slow for me. I need to drive. I want to walk normally. I can walk with my hiking poles, but only for very, very short distances. Too painful after that. My left arm only moves so far, not far enough to maneuver a steering wheel.
In desperation I went to my general practitioner. I complained about the lack of speedier progress. He gave me a quizzical look.
“You need a year.”
There is a moral to this sorry story. Move slowly. Be alert. Watch where you walk. Manage stress.. Don’t end up like me – or worse, Humpty Dumpty.
.(Most all of my care — surgeries, medications and x-rays, hospital stays, therapy, plus transportation by ambulance to and from the rehab center three times per week, is paid for by the French social security system. As a resident of France, I am entitled to these benefits. I also have a supplemental insurance which covers the portion not covered by the state.
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Our hearts go out to you, Leah. You have been through so much this past year. But you have been courageous and tenacious, continuing to make progress. We pray for your full and quick recovery.
Suzanne and Tim
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Thank you Suzanne and Tim. I will get better, but very, very slowly. I am sorry I will miss you and all at the
Celebration of Life for Bob. Lots of love, Leah
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Leah, so surprised to read your story and imagine what you endured and some how came out smiling. Bless you. Keep working at it and you’ll find yourself behind the wheel again one day soon. Enjoy your cats and that view.
Bill Beetle
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What a wonderful surprise to hear from you Bill. Brings back great memories. I will keep on truckin’ I am relieved to be back in my apt. . Thanks for checking in.
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Thank you for sharing this inspirational story! Our delightful visit with you right before your fall is a poignant reminder that sh*t happens, and it does so at any time, particularly when least expected. Carpe Diem!
Richard Sherman
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I am glad you found it inspirational. Thank you. . I hope you are enjoying your Balkan adventure.
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A miracle story if I’ve ever read one, Leah. Not many who could have survived what you did — and kept that great smile!! Stay well! Lots of love, Susan
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I am waiting for the real miracle. —— when I can drive and walk normally. Patience. Thanks for the comment, dear Susan
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So so hard. I hope your recovery goes wellz
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Elizabeth Burger(410) 259-1351
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Oh, Leah, what a horrible year. My heart goes out to you. So glad you had good medical care. Patience, my friend, with the recovery. PT will make you better! Betty
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PT has to make me better. I do my exercises regularly. Thanks for reading and commenting.
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Dear Leah,
We heard about Bob’s demise from Dave and Silvia Hughes in August and are saddened to learn of his passing.
We have fond memories of spending good times with the two of you in Stuttgart and in Provence.
We are just learning of your unfortunate injuries and hope that your journey to recovery will be completed soon.
This has been such a tough year for you and we wish you better times in future.
Just from reading your latest “Tales and Travel”, we see that your spirit is undaunted and that you are still able to author a striking story which captures the focus of your audience…as always.
We hope to see you again sometime…somewhere.
Love…Tom & Pat Francis
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Hi Tom and thanks for your very kind words. Happy birthday to Miss Pat. Yes, we had some fun times together. Next time in Europ-e, come and see me.
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Liebe Leah, wir sind geschockt über Deinen Krankenbericht. Da ich auch Dir Hölle nach meinem Sturz mitgemacht habe, weiß ich was Du mitgemacht hast. Wir denken an Dich und drücken Dir die Daumen, daß Du weiterhin Fortschritte machst. Ich melde mich bei Dir, sobald wir aus dem Urlaub zurück sind. LG Dagmar und Klaus ❤️
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Liebe Klaus und
Dagmar, Es ist nicht einfach, aber muss besser werden. Ich vermisse euch und Deutschland. LG
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Liebe Leah, wir sind geschockt über Deinen Krankenbericht. Da ich auch Dir Hölle nach meinem Sturz mitgemacht habe, weiß ich was Du mitgemacht hast. Wir denken an Dich und drücken Dir die Daumen, daß Du weiterhin Fortschritte machst. Ich melde mich bei Dir, sobald wir aus dem Urlaub zurück sind. LG Dagmar und Klaus ❤️
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Hello Leah:
Hang in there – as you are already doing! And say hello to Steve – I remember staying at his place one night in Denver while driving west from L’ville…. And now my son and his wife live in Denver near the football stadium…
George
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Good to hear from you, George. Steve and Yoshie saved me
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Hi Leah,
I wrote a long note then got distracted and it disappeared. What a horrific experience
You have a lot of courage and loving relatives. With time your recovery will happen. I’ve been through serious injuries too but nothing as bad as yours. Keep on swimming. This has been a tremendous help for me. So sad to loose Bob. We all are facing these losses now. Fortunately you have lots of friends.
Big hugs
Love, elizabeth
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Thanks for commenting, dear PC buddy. It took a lot of courage and grit for me way back when in ‘Brazil. I will trudge on. I m anxious to swim again, but not yet possible. I miss my dear
Bob, but am grateful his suffering has ended.
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Leah – Esther and I were moved by your experience. (Not the sort of adventure story we anticipate from you.) Our thoughts and wishes to you for a speedy and pain free recovery.
-Bill and Esther
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Dear Bill and Esther, Thanks for your wishes. Let’s hope I can write about more fun and pleasant. adventures soon
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Wow. Horrible year. Glad you have good care. Your indomitable spirit shows through in your story and pictures. Heal well, fellow pilgrim!
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It is always a pleasure to hear from you, follow traveler. I am blessed with good care, so it has to get better.
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Dear Leah,
Thanks for sharing challenges with such clarity! And condolences… you contributed experiences and adventures to Bob’s life. Your current story exemplifies a word key in Finnish: sisu–perserverance, stamina, grit.
Bon courage,
Jinny in Helsinki
To Provence in November
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Thank you Jinny. I will need some more of that “sisu”
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You are incredibly strong, Leah. Just to tell this story as you do requires huge courage. You are making progress so I hope you keep that in mind. Thinking of you and sending our very best for continued progress! Lots of love, Gayle & Ralph
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Dear Leah. My husband John and I wish you a full recovery. You have had such a sad year
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It definitely has not been a good year. It can only get better — I hope. Thanks for your wishes.
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Progress is slow. I just need to be extra careful and patient. Thanks for your comment.
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My goodness, Leah, I’m so shocked to hear all these details of your terrific misfortune, and also about the passing of Bob. Thankfully, after such lengthy hospitalization and repeated bouts with surgery after your horrific fall, you’re finally home again and beginning the recovery phase with regular rehab sessions. What else can I say but to express my sympathy and best wishes for your continuing improvement. For sure, it ain’t gonna be easy, but my thoughts are with you, and hopefully your situation will continue to improve. Take care 🙏
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Thank you Leonard. I always appreciate your comments. Yes, good to be home and I am thankful for the continuing therapy.
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Continue to hang in there, Leah. Best wishes 😊
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Dear dear Leah,
Your Oxford, Ohio-cousin, Anne Jantzen. told me about your misery…your husband’s death and your Humpty-Dumpty fall, but reading your account….well….I’m glad you sent pictures of yourself and of your brother and his wife who came to your aid. They show that though you must still be in a great deal of pain, you are on your way to recovery–most elegantly.
Since first signing on to your blog, I’ve loved reading about your adventures and getting to know you. This early morning, I just want to wish you well and healing of all kinds.
Julia Ward
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Thank you so much, Julia. I am glad you like my blog. I hope to write about more pleasant adventures soon. I will get better. I must
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