If you follow my weekend posts, you’ll, of course, be aware that my every weekend is a dice with death. This weekend was no different.
It started benignly like all disasters.
Actually, it started mundanely with cleaning. Taking out the rubbish. Hoovering up bullshit. Polishing my reflection back into the mirror. Boring crap.
After lunch, Myles was taking his dad to the cinema and wondered if I was free to join.
We watched Jumanji.
Sunday plodded along nicely. Very chilled. Very relaxed.
Around 7am this morning, the front wheel on Shaun’s scooter suddenly locked and he went flying through the air like a bird. Unfortunately, a man built with his frame doesn’t fly like a graceful songbird but plummets to ground with a splat. His shrill bitching sounds about the same, though.
I get a call at 7:30 and I’m suddenly a paramedic, rushing the patient to A&E. He could hardly walk and his right arm wouldn’t move.
Fortunately, I took that first aid course a while back and I had to drive, so I wasn’t able to do the things I couldn’t remember.
Unfortunately, it was expected of me to do sympathy but whenever I’m sympathetic people think I’m taking the piss. In this case, I was 100% ripping it out of the idiot.
We got to A&E at 9am, and they smashed the four hour wait time by 3 hours and 59 minutes. Shaun was seen as soon as we walked through the door by the triage nurse.
He was taken straight for gas and air in the Minor Injuries unit while I waited at reception to sign him in. For some reason, none other than chatting that I could see, I was the next in line and it took fifteen minutes.
The first two hours seemed very productive. The team had got his pain under control, which was excruciating-looking enough for me to stop ripping it out him in, and got him to X-Ray. His results weren’t the clearest on his shoulder, but it looked like he’d dislocated it backwards and possibly fractured the rim of the socket. His results totally ruled out damage to his hip, which was good.
The next two hours saw him have a second X-Ray, which didn’t clear anything up, and a visit from the Orthopaedic doctor who ordered a CT scan. The CT scan was ready in minutes.
Due to increasing pain levels, Shaun got hit up with morphine by a dealer in blue. This meant he had to be chaperoned to CT by a nurse. We spent the next hour being told a nurse was on the way. By the time one arrived, he could go unchaperoned and went to CT with a porter.
It felt like the hour it was, the sixth. It started with me still sitting in the uncomfortable school chair-esk chair, reading the same signs on the wall. ‘Think PILLOWS!’ stands out in my mind. It was a very flashy poster that reminded staff to offer pillows to patients. Apparently, this was something in the past they forgot. Today, Shaun was offered so many pillows that we could’ve made a snug had he taken them. I think the sign works.
Within minutes of Shaun returning from CT, he was given the news. He’s broken his shoulder blade, which was noted as an unusual injury for someone who flew over the handlebars. There’s nothing they can do. He has to suffer it. It’ll heal eventually, one day this year, maybe before June.
It was another hour to pick up his prescription, and viola! The idiot with the broken shoulder was home. He’ll have to walk around in a sling for the foreseeable future, be in agony for at least the next two weeks, and until his hip is less bruised, he’ll have to hobble too.