Hhhmmm, that doesn’t feel good I thought to myself through my groggy haze, but putting it down to my usual aches and pains from my sporting days didn't really think too much of it. I hobbled slowly to the shower but felt the sharp pain emanate through my heel and ankle with every step.
By the time I got to work, it was more than just painful, and felt decidedly tender. I had loosened my laces on my shoes but by mid-morning but the pain was truly starting to throb and more than a little excruciating when at its worst. For the remainder of the day I limped noticeably around the office with more than just a few enquiries and concerned looks as I shuffled by.
That night I took a couple of Tylenol so that I could try and at least sleep, however with every little movement no matter how inconsequential I seemed to wake. I checked my watch for the umpteenth time and it was already 3:30 am, unfortunately for me I hadn't had a wink of sleep and by now I was beside myself with frustration and pain… Damn it I thought to myself as I weakly tottered to the bathroom to down more Tylenol, I took a deep breath and sighed deeply as I thought about my hectic day ahead..."once more into the breach" I recited to myself as I limped back to bed.
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| TW's ankles before the mysterious ankle swelling episode |
As you could imagine I was a complete bear at work, grumpy and short tempered, and I dare say an absolute treat to be around… Somehow I managed to get through the day without truly offending absolutely everyone, but the level of concern was sweet.
That night as I lay as I lay on my bed even the weight of sheet was painful on my aching ankle. ☹ At this point I realized that it was clearly beyond a simple strain and that I desperately needed professional help but at this hour (11:20 pm) the only option was to head to the emergency room at my local hospital. Fortunately for me the hospital is only 6 blocks from home so it took me less than five minutes to drive, park and enter the front doors of the hospital.
Following the signs to Emergency I eventually found it at the back of the hospital. Taking a number I sat with a handful of other people, clearly worse off than me which made me feel like a bit of an imposter, but with my throbbing ankle what choice did I really have.
As I sat there I realized that the emergency room is like being swallowed by a large, living organism. (Stay with me now, as I think this analogy is spot on). The Triage room is the mouth where you sniffed by the admitting nurse to make sure you're edible, once satisfied that you should be eaten you are indeed swallowed whole (or processed in their lingo).
It took over an hour to see a nurse at Triage so that they could take down my basic information and validate my address, date of birth and health card number. This was followed by a lengthy and rather rudimentary list of questions. "Have you been to a farm in the last 30 days? Have you been in contact with anyone who's been to a farm in the last 30 days? Is this a workers compensation claim?" etc, etc... As she asked me the countless series of questions she was busying herself hooking me up to the blood pressure machine and taking my pulse with a little clip on my finger.
Once satisfied that I was truly in need of assistance she then processed me and sent me around the corner to yet another nurses station where all of my information was once again asked for and this time placed into the computer system. This time I was given a bracelet like the ones you get at a concert, albeit this one had my name, medical card number, date of birth etc. I guess now I had been truly swallowed by the organism and was sitting in its intestine...stewing!
From here I was directed across the hall to yet another waiting room until I could be sent to the actual emergency room. The wait at this stage was another two hours, so if you're playing along at home that's just on three hours since I arrived at the hospital and I was still some distance from the actual emergency room and potential help.
At around 2:45 am my name was finally called, hallelujah I thought as I limped toward the nurse who held out my file. Follow the green dots she instructed, pointing to the large green dots on the corridor floor and turned to call another name, from her clutch of files.
Gratefully I shuffled down the hall as fast my good leg would take me, although I'm sure if I was in a race with a tortious I likely would have come a definitive second…
After following the dots I found myself standing in front of yet one more nurses station which had a sign that read “wait on the last green dot”, to which I did but feeling just a tad exasperated by this stage.
The hall leading into the emergency ward was packed with people with a range of maladies and illnesses, some obvious and others not so much. I observed a lot of very long faces to which I would soon understand why!
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| Schools of fish swirling around the hungry sharks - anything to avoid being eaten! Analogy anyone? |
This was a great vantage point to observe the one doctor and one nurse on duty in this overfilled emergency ward. Noting that they'd sometimes disappear for long stretches at a time before reappearing almost from nowhere bustling around and calling a new name, on average I reckon it worked out to be about four patients per hour.
Newbies who joined the fun after me we relieved that they had finally been through all of the preliminaries and were now about to be treated, however that soon wore off and you could feel the air of frustration permeate the air.
The next two hours passed so incredibly slowly, with me being unable to find a comfortable position for my red and swollen ankle. As I sat there, waves of pain would crash over me reasonably frequently and felt as though I was caught in a never-ending storm surge at sea.
Eventually the doctor called my name and pointed me toward an examination room. "What’s up?" he asked cordially. I'm now truly in the belly of the beast as I went on to explain for the third time what had transpired over the last 36 hours with regard to with my puffy, red angry looking ankle.
Eventually he lifted my ankle gently in his two hands and pressed ever so slightly all around where it was obviously sore, with each push he asked if it hurt…”no not there”, “oh my god yes” there I said urgently as he pressed right on the most painful spot.
He put my foot down and said “I'm going to give you an injection to give you some relief from the pain, then I want you to go to your family doctor tomorrow”.
I asked what he thought it might be,“well, it could be a lot of things”, he said seriously. Really, no I mean REALLY??? Could you be any more vague I thought? So you're telling me that after 12 years in medical school that's all he could come up with? I mean c'mon!
I was, by this stage completely flabbergasted, and I think he could tell that I was less than impressed with his half hearted answer. He stood, turned on his heel and left the room, leaving me sitting on the table in a state of utter shock.
Fifteen minutes later the same gruff male nurse came in and asked if I was the one who needed the injection for pain, to which I just nodded. He quickly rolled my sleeve, swabbing me hard, and jabbed me in one quick motion, “you're free to go” he said.
Five plus hours at the hospital (from 11:30 pm – 4:45 am) and the diagnosis was “go to your family doctor in the morning, here’s something for the pain”. I now realized that indeed the healthcare system fits perfectly with my living organism analogy, and I had just been shit out the end…
Prologue:
Having visited my family doctor the next morning she diagnosed "Enthesitis" which is an inflamed achilles at the attachment to the ankle. I have a follow up Ultrasound booked for two weeks time once the swelling subsides.
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