Last Few Tidbits

I am sick of talking about my stupid leg. It is healing well. I can walk on it with the help of crutches, but I cannot wear the brace boot I'm supposed to wear till the doctor declares me 100% because the top of the brace hits exactly where the fracture is.

Can't be blamed for that. I am a tall drink of water, for one. Another reason I could not have anticipated this problem is that I tried the boot on 3 days after the break, meaning my leg was too swollen (and I was floating on pain killers). I couldn't tell how it was going to work once the swelling went down.

During surgery, the doctor made 6 small incisions (cuts) into my leg to place a titanium rod that is meant to stay inside the bone for the rest of my life. He stapled those incisions shut. I had to have my staples taken out 2 weeks after surgery. Being as I was in China by that time I had to rely on Chinese doctors to do it. Not that I doubted their ability. I feared the pain.

In America, healthcare providers make a big deal out of pain management and patient comfort. They ask what your pain level is on a scale of 1 to 10 and medicate you accordingly. To remove surgical staples in America, first the area is swabbed with Lidocane, a numbing agent. Once the doctor is sure the area has no feeling, s/he will proceed with yanking out the staples. In theory, one shouldn't have a moment's discomfort.

My first let-down was that the nurse tasked with removing my staples had never seen such things. Surgical staples? How to deal with them? With Sam interpreting I told her they are just like staples that hold paper together, and they can just be pulled out. That might have been a huge mistake on my part.

Now armed with hemostats, this pretty young nurse attacked my leg. No numbing agent. Through various misfortunes, some of those incisions had bled and were crusted over. I flinched and hissed when she got one of the staples in the hemostat's jaws and started pulling. Immediately she withdrew, declaring she did not know how to deal with staples. She recommended the doctor himself come and remove them.

Sam pulled the doctor out of consult. In a matter of moments they returned. The nurse explained her predicament, handing the hemostats to the doctor. He exclaimed over the surgical staples, saying they don't use those in China. And then, he set to work.

Still no numbing agent. I'm doing my very best to not writhe in agony as he gouges my leg again and again. That sweet, compassionate nurse is now holding my hand and cradling my head. Sam gets in on the comforting by placing a hand on my knee.

The doctor, chuckling, says: “The Chinese must be more resistant to pain than foreigners. A Chinese patient would not be suffering like that.”

He made me feel like chasing him around with a stapler, letting what staples I managed to plant in his flesh fester for about 2 weeks and then yanking them out with no numbing agent.

There were more than 20 staples, all told. Intellectually I remember the pain, just like I remember my leg hurt in the immediate aftermath of the break. The human brain has a wonderful defense mechanism: it only remembers excruciating pain academically. That is how women are able to bear child after child. If they remembered how bad it hurt, most women would probably only have 1 child, and may even scare other women from ever having children.

I'm due back at the hospital in 2 weeks for an X-ray to see how the bone is healing. I hope by all my stars that I everything is well and I won't need any more treatment.

Especially because the doctor – whose English was really very good, while reading through my American doctor's instructions regarding care, asked when we should take the titanium rod out of my leg. I hope they don't see fit to rebreak my leg in order to remove it!  

People Needing People

To springboard off the last entry – having to learn how to lean on others, I need to pay tribute to those who helped me the most during that terrible trip back to China.

Of course, it goes without saying that my son, George and Chris and my sister Donna top the list of those to be thanked. They were there in the aftermath of the accident: Donna actually taking me to the hospital, my son driving me around when I was discharged and George and Chris for always being so kind and nurturing. They saw to my every need in those first few days, when my world was agony.

Beyond those, there were strangers who deserve special mention, like:

Alex: a tall, rangy, nice looking young man carrying a backpack who prowled LAX where I was sitting. After about his 4^th circuit he asked me if there were any place to get food. I pointed to my crutches and told him I had no idea because I had no way to get around, but then offered him some snacks. Over peanut butter pretzels we exchanged stories.

He was headed for Vancouver, British Columbia... whenever the flight desk opened. Apparently he was very early. I told him my sorry tale of missing my plane, being dumped in front of the check-in counter and no one able or willing to offer help. After expressing his disbelief he pulled out his phone, called his friend Jacquline in Chicago and instructed her to browse the web and/or call the airline to find out what she could that would help me. He took pictures of my United Airline tickets – the flight that got me to LAX from Dallas, and reservation (for my Air China flight) and sent them to her.

Jacqueline: a cheerful young woman with bubbly laughter in her voice. About 15 minutes after Alex told her of my plight she called back (Alex handed me his phone) to tell me she ranted and raved, but could find no way to help me other than to tell me the Air China desk would be staffed again around 9PM.

I would have loved to meet this charming young woman who assured me it was not trouble at all for her to act on my behalf. She was just happy she could do anything at all. Shortly after I talked with her, Alex volunteered to watch my bags so I could hobble to the bathroom and then refill my water bottle from the fountain, just outside the bathroom doors. When I got back, Alex checked into his flight and we parted company. 

The Chinese family, also looking for someone at the Air China counter, who expressed their dismay at the idea that I was stranded and alone. They volunteered to watch my bags while I again went to the bathroom, and then wished me a safe trip before leaving me on my bench.

TSA Agent Ortega: Around 7PM I was feeling so terrible – in pain and hungry, and no way to get any food. I begged him (even started crying, much as I didn't want to) to go buy me some food. I didn't care what kind. At first, he told me there was nothing he could do, but about 5 minutes after I regained my bench he came after me and offered to go buy me something. I handed him some money – again relying on blind trust. A while later he came back with a full sack from Burger King and a large soda. And a receipt and the change from the $20 I had given him.

Sha-Sha: a Chinese born reservations clerk for Air China.

After sitting for so long and nothing happening, I decided to take matters in my own hands... as much as possible. Thank all the stars for free WIFI! I got on my computer and used QQ to talk with my son, who took up the matter. He called Air China's toll free number and didn't quit yelling until someone finally appeared at the airline counter. I waved Sha-Sha over. She had her phone to her ear. Immediately she asked me my name. Once confirming that I was Darrell's mother, she asked me to please get him to calm down and stop shouting! (how funny! How cute!)

Sha-Sha not only arranged my flight for the next day, but also called the shuttle to the hotel my son arranged for me, and then sat and waited with me until I boarded the shuttle.

I can't honestly say that I got a bum rap from the airline but I will aver that Sha-Sha went above and beyond her call of duty to help me.

The flight attendants were wonderful in spite of my throwing up all over their plane and repeatedly calling for them. I've already eulogized them in a previous entry, but they bear mentioning again.

Wheelchair services in Beijing and Wuhan: Between my limited Chinese and their limited English we made ourselves understood. The chairs in China are actual wheelchairs that my longer than average frame did not exactly fit in (the ones in America are modified luggage carts that I fit in nicely). Still, my dear attendant did her very best to get me where I needed to be. Ditto in Wuhan, with one small exception.

Tianhe airport in Wuhan is rather old-fashioned. To board a plane, one walks down a gangway and into the plane, just like about every airport the world over. However, getting off an airplane involves climbing down a set of stairs onto the tarmac, and then boarding a bus to the terminal. Of course, handicapped services were waiting for me, but first, I had to get down those stairs. In the rain. 

No fewer than 4 people tugged on me, causing me to feel I might fall down the stairs rather than be helped down the stairs. A dear attendant stood on my left side, telling me to just lean on him. When I did his arm gave way, thus causing me to use my hurt leg to step down. Perhaps he didn't reckon on how much I weigh or how strong I am but he tried to help, bless his dear heart.

It would have been easier for me to use the left handrail, seeing as my left leg is the hurt one. I couldn't seem to convince him of that.

Finally making it down the stairs, another attendant wiped the rain out of the seat of the wheelchair. How kind! And, whereas other passengers were loading into a large bus, I was pushed to the first class van, seated in a plush seat and driven to the terminal in relative comfort.

Once my bag was claimed, again by my kind attendant, he pushed me to the exit, where Sam was waiting.

Sam: I talk about him a lot, and with good reason. Sam is the epitome of 'friend'. He will do anything in his power to make things work. Coming to the airport at 10:30 at night on the country's most revered holiday is not the least of his feats. But there he was, all round-headed and bespectacled, dripping umbrella in hand. He couldn't wait to relieve my attendant of the burden of pushing the luggage cart and soon, we were out in the parking lot, looking for our ride.

Here a mention also goes to the driver of the school van, who left her family to celebrate Lunar New Year without her, in order to come pick me up.

Upon finally making it home, Sam made me something to eat – I had told him about the nightmare flight and throwing up everywhere. While I was attempting to eat he did some rudimentary cleaning, put a chair in the bathroom so I could shower (and he remembered to turn the water heater on), and turned my futon couch into a bed, complete with mattress heater and quilt. He left after 2 hours – around 1:30AM, only after making sure I was settled in.  

Another thing Sam arranged: the flight rebooking fee. Remember I did not have my bank card with me while I was in America? I had no money to pay the more than $1000 fee, so I contacted Sam via QQ, who negotiated the fare with travel agents in China. While I was being shuttled to the hotel for the night, my dear friend Sam was working the phone and paying for my ticket. When I appeared at the counter the next day, he had everything taken care of. All I had to do was get on the plane.

No matter how brief an encounter – Alex, Jacqueline and TSA agent Ortega; how professional – Sha-Sha; or how long-standing a relationship – Darrell and Sam, I am constantly awed at human kindness. I aver that kindnesses such as these make me the richest person in the world.

Little Miss Independent

That is indeed me, even though I'm not exactly little. I am frightfully independent. Sometimes it frustrates my friends and family, who would love nothing more than to do for me. I've been doing for myself for a very long time and it is difficult for me to relinquish any control.

I am now in a position where I must relinquish.

It all started on that fateful hike, when my foot went one way and I went the other. Even though I securely tied my leg up with my jacket in the immediate aftermath, I realized I would not be able to make it back up the hill we had just hiked down, in spite of my best intentions. We had to get rescue services to haul me out of the gorge.

That took a great deal of trust, my friends. I aver I am no delicate flower: I have meat on my bones and those bones are neither dainty nor small. It took 4 firemen about 1 hour to carry me out. They had to take several breaks.

I told them they could just tie me to the back board – the board they use to carry accident victims on, and drag me up the hill. They didn't want to do that. I thanked them. It would have been painful and humiliating to be dragged.

That was the first time I had to blindly trust strangers to help me in my hour of need. And what a level of trust! I had to surrender complete control of my body for these men to carry it up the slope. Giving up total control of my physical self caused me to reflect that there will be many more times I will need to cede control over myself or my circumstances through the coming weeks.

My leg was so swollen I could not bend to put a sock or shoe on my hurt leg. I had to ask someone to do it for me.

I had to ask people to bring me food and drink. No way to carry anything while on crutches.

My poor home is so dirty, after 2 months away. I will need help to clean it.

Buying food! I had almost no food in my house after being gone for so long, but there would be no way for me to get on a bus, shop and then carry everything back.

Getting myself to class when school starts again next week. I have no doubts about my ability to teach, even with a bum leg. Getting to my classrooms may prove a challenge, especially in this damp weather. What if my classes are on the other side of campus?

            Another problem this weather engenders is arthritis flare-ups. I've long had arthritis but never really felt it because I'm always so active. Now, with the damp cold and being virtually immobile, having to use my arms more than usual is causing my arthritis to flare. Yesterday I was in agony after just doing a load of laundry and cooking a meal.

It is hard for someone who is used to counting only on herself to have to lean on others. It is a bit late in life to learn that lesson but necessity is my teacher/master. I'm seeing this evolution as one that will turn me into a more open, accepting person.

It is never too late to learn new things! 

How to Become a Pariah at 38,000 Feet

I would rather report in chronological order. However, that order was upset the day I broke my leg. So much has happened since then! Therefore, rather than try to report things in the order they happened, I'll highlight tidbits in no particular order.

I am now back in China, hoping to access my online medical records from my surgery in the States to give to the doctor over here so that he can remove the staples from my leg and otherwise see to my post-break care. I'm not having much luck.

I've had a few visitors – wonderful! Except that I have to hobble down the stairs to let them into the stairwell because our intercom/security system is not working. That's a bit inconvenient, but then: I don't live on the 5^th floor. There are only 4 steps to ground level. I can manage 4 steps.

One should always look for the bright side.  

Like the peace of being in my  little home again. When I sent Sam a message about  breaking my leg while still stateside, he thought I would have stayed in the States longer. I'm  sure I would have been welcome at anyone's house but there is such a thing as overstaying one's welcome. Even those who love me most might get tired of having me around. Besides, I just really wanted to be home.

So now I tell of my homecoming.

Going without food is not good for me. Some can fast for a day or 2 but I need to eat, at least a little, every few hours, every day. I missed my flight to China (more on that later), and with nothing between breakfast and evening but a few pretzels and pain medication, my stomach was feeling queasy. Once everything was taken care of and I had another plane ticket for the next day, I thought about food but my stomach did a flip and I quickly abandoned the idea.

I was not ready to get moving the next morning but after all the drama of the day before, I certainly did not want to take a chance on missing another plane. A quick shot at breakfast – a bagel with cream cheese and a horrible coffee, provided by the hotel I spent the night at and brought to me by a lovely woman name Madison did nothing to settle my cranky stomach down.

Now at the airport,  with everything taken care of, the airline called for wheelchair services to take me to the gate. By now realizing I am supposed to tip the people who push me around and being unwilling to hand over gratuity for people doing their job, I didn't feel right in asking to be pushed to a food vendor for breakfast. Besides, I still had that bagel.

Besides, I still had that queasy stomach.

And, most likely we would be fed within an hour of takeoff. Surely that little bagel can tide me over till the flight attendants serve food.

Beef and rice: good. I ate slowly, allowing each small bite to settle before I ate any more. I sipped a cola to help my stomach accept each bite. And bread. It came with the meal and I ate it as well. I was still feeling sick but no longer hungry. Now to lay back and take a nap.

You know, it was the darndest thing! Every flight I've ever been on – and I've been on quite a few, there have always been air sickness bags in the seat pocket. Now, when I really needed one, there wasn't one to be found!

I jerked awake with that urgent sensation indicating my lunch would soon revisit. With one hand clamped over my mouth – as though that would hold anything back, desperately I pawed through the seatback pocket for a bag to void my stomach into. There was none. Quickly I jabbed the flight attendant call button, and then I grabbed the newspaper discarded by my seatmate, fashioned it into a cone... not a moment too soon. I was erupting! Spewing! Now the paper cone was leaking all over me and I had no room to bend over. Still I disgorge! Would there be no end to this regurgitation???

Vaguely I was aware that 3 flight attendants appeared in order to minister to me. One had brought an entire packet of tissues, and she let me keep it. Another reached across me to throw a blanket over the puddle on the floor. A third brought wet napkins. After cleaning myself and the seat off as best as I could I asked for some sort of air freshener. I was painfully aware of how uncomfortable the air had become for those in my immediate vicinity. Later, I found I was the focus of some very uncharitable stares. The man whose newspaper I ruined moved to another seat – the flight was not crowded.

Let's find the bright side in all of this, now.

Sorry: I could find no bright side in throwing up all over the place in an airplane at cruising altitude at the start of the journey.

But there was kindness.

After the immediate drama of the event, a flight attendant came back and offered me a 'fu' 福 – a good luck charm. He intimated it was for New Year but I know what he really meant: poor, broken legged passenger, now throwing up all over the place. Surely she needs some luck!

What I needed was ginger. Ginger is good for settling upset stomachs and it just so happened that my friend George had given me an entire bag of ginger candy. Moreover, I had that bag of candy in my carry-on! Now, if I could just get into the overhead bin...

Now, if I could just get out of my seat! Broken legs do not make getting out of airplane seats easy. And the flight attendant had put my crutches away for safekeeping. While they were still milling around me I asked them to help me get some of that ginger candy. While eating one I sipped a glass of Sprite, also very good for settling upset tummies. Within 15 minutes, another violent eruption – I had a bag for it this time, and miraculously, my stomach was fine again! The rest of the flight I was able to keep food down but I didn't push my luck. I only ate small bites, chewing each one thoroughly before assaying another.

The fu I was gifted now rests where I can see it every day. When I think of how bummy it is to have a broken leg, to not be able to go about as normal, to have to struggle just to cook a meal and get it to the table, to be woken up every few hours because of pain... instead of thinking of how hard all of this is and how stupid I am to take chances that result in broken legs, I think of that flight attendant giving me a token of good luck.

My friends, lucky I am. Things could have been so much worse. That is what there is to hold on to. That, and the hand railing to get off the plane in Wuhan.   

 

Warning! Danger! Watch Out!

Sitting around LAX (Los Angeles airport) for a substantial amount of time, I kept hearing warnings, repeated in several languages.

Do not leave your bags unattended! The Transportation Security Administration urges you to keep  your bags in your sight at all times.

You should not accept bags from strangers. Please inform the Transportation Security Administration if anyone asks you to take a bag.

This airport does not support solicitors (beggars). You do not have to give money to solicitors. This airport does not support their activities. I repeat...

You should not loiter in airport areas. Please go directly to your airline counter to establish your validity as a passenger.

This zone is for loading and unloading passengers only. Do not leave your car unattended or it will be towed. (this announcement was made outside)

These announcements played repeatedly in Chinese, English, French, Japanese and Spanish.

Upon my arrival and through navigating Beijing and later, Tianhe airports in China, I heard gentle music playing. Not a single dire warning. 

Upon boarding planes in America, invariably a pleasant voice will intone notifications, among them: “The captain has turned on the seatbelt sign.” Contrast that with “The seatbelt sign is on, please remain in your seat with your belt fastened”, heard on Chinese flights.

Why do Americans feel the need for constant authority? Why emphasize that THE CAPTAIN has turned on the seatbelt sign? Would that sign be any less important if a lesser person had turned it on?

What about leaving bags unattended? What kind of traveler would be so negligent as to leave their bags behind? And if they should decide on that need, why be constantly admonished against it?

Who needs warnings against giving money to beggars?

How to contrast the parking issue, when in China people pretty much take every liberty possible regarding parking and driving? Still: why constantly berate against stopping and parking?

Interesting note about parking: along a stretch of 'no parking' – as indicated by the red painted curb and the constant warnings, I saw a government vehicle parked: nobody sitting inside or anywhere around it. How is it that the government can violate the rules ordinary citizens are warned against?

While it is true the average traveler probably does not pay much attention to those recordings, being as they are going about the business of traveling, I have to wonder what the point is to generate all of these warnings?

To make one feel safe?

To make on feel stupid?

I felt like I was in a police state  the whole time I waiting in LAX. That impression was further borne out by police riding their bikes through the terminal, by groups of Transportation Security Administration agents and even bomb sniffing dogs roaming around.

I'm so glad to be back in China where I don't have to be afraid of some random bag or a beggar. Well... maybe I can fear the beggar a little bit, but I have enough sense to know not to give them any money. I don't need a recording in 5 languages to tell me not to do so.