Round One.
I'm just going to take you back for a second or two to July 3, 2011. This was the day I learned to dive. So it was kind of a big deal. It was also the night I had my first ER visit. Let's debrief on exactly what happened that night. Casey, Kate, Sal, and I went to a Zac Brown Band concert. It was also probably one of the funniest-but-most-frustrating nights. Ever. All I did at the concert was innocently try to go to the port-a-potty, and what happens? Yeah, the slippery asphalt hill totally takes me out. I like to blame the company who created the asphalt, my slippery gold shoes (Who doesn't put tread on shoes these days? I'm not in ballet class.), Verizon Wireless Amphitheater (I'm going to lobby for danger alert signs to be posted), and our makeshift strawberry dacquiris. The recipe MAY have been a bad idea.
My foot slipped out front, and my back knee went down. It all happened so fast. A blur really. All I remember is Casey yelling for medics and blood gushing down my leg. My shoe was in shambles too. I just started crying cause I knew deep down it meant no running for me. This stuff just always happens to me! It wasn't even doing something cool like a knife fight or shark encounter or anything. Sigh. So, we missed all but the first hour of the concert, but we did get to ride in the security car...no, "police" was not written on the side, and no, there were no sirens in the windows. At the time, I think Katie and I thought it was cool to get a ride back to the apartment in a fake squad car. Casey and Sal had to walk. Like men.
So we made our way to the ER, mind you only 1 other person was waiting besides me. Apparently, that still doesn't mean you get in right away; we still definitely waited in the lobby for thirty minutes...we thought we were making great time. Almost felt kind of special. Then we were defeated by the 3+ hour wait in our assigned room. I wasn't even waiting on an actual doctor. What could this PA possibly be doing out there with no else to take care of? Luckily, Kate, Sal, and Casey all got to join me and we proceeded to make the best video documentary ever. Kate was allowed back because she's my sister and an athletic trainer, Sal got to come back because he's getting his PhD in Biology, and Casey because he's my husband (talk about privileged, right?). Oddly enough, the nurse questioned whether all that was real...seriously? Who lies about that stuff? And to be able to come up with those details on the spot...impressive. And even if I had made that up, they should have let them come back anyhow. For the effort.
When we weren't all falling asleep and paying exorbitant doctor's bills, they kept me beyond entertained. Best friends. Ever.
In the days that followed, I got my new license on Vicodin (and the picture shows it), closed a house on Vicodin, and operated heavy machinery on Vicodin (treadmill...this can be dangerous if you can't stay on straight). It was a rough few weeks of fighting infection and trying to run and just coaxing my little right knee to get better. Even today it's still not better. You don't realize how much you bend your knee until it's important that you don't do it.
Here are some pictures of that event (Parental Advisory due to blood):
They are slightly out of order. And I tried and tried, but I'm new at this so please forgive me. (I was planning on pictures in future blogs, but I have received a special request from Annie and just HAD to deliver asap)
Several things to note in the pictures: Katie is applying Lidocaine to my already patched up knee, Sal is cleaning the blood off my leg and heel with hand sanitizer, he is also eating a cinnamon roll with his veggie and steak kabob (what??), and our makeshift strawberry dacquiris are actually not that all. But they do have delicious pineapple in them.
Then: Round Two.
Now I'm going to take you back to August 28, 2011. Yes, this was just yesterday.
Sigh. We did the Warrior Dash which was so fun. Me, Katie, Casey, Mom and Dad. Lots of fun. So we line up on day 2 of the race weekend...there were like 20 waves of this race. They announced that the fastest girl ran in 26 min up until now. And there were only 2 more waves to run after us. I thought, "Self, you can totally beat that" and gave myself a little pep talk. So the fire flared, and we scampered off. I showed those obstacles who's boss and trampled all over the uneven ground like a champ. Then we get to some trail running. My absolute fav. Flying on the downs, and about to catch the ONE girl in front of me to win the race and definitely on track to beat the fastest time...that was my plan anyways. She was obviously losing steam and it was just a matter of minutes. Super Pam takes a dive on one of the fifty billion roots sticking up out of the ground (Who in their right mind puts a root sticking straight up out of the ground on a trail?). Classy. Major fail. I like to think I'm hardcore and what not (cause I am I'm sure and my pain tolerance is through the roof I feel like), but after the July 3 escapade, I crumbled. Completely. "THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING TO ME AGAIN" I complained to Casey. Left knee. Down and out, gushing blood, another deep cut, and close to hyperventilating trying not to cry while running.
I stopped at the next obstacle to find out from the fire department guys if I needed stitches. This is ALL I need to know. I just got my new Blue Cross Blue Shield card in the mail and the ER co-pay went up AGAIN. What does the State Health Plan think I'm made of? Money? Well, I've got news for you, NC. I'm not. No stitches expected, so they wrapped me up so snail-slow. Didn't even do a very good job, cause when I started running again it started sliding right down my leg. Because I was afraid of infection, I couldn't trudge through the slime water or the mud pit...I would not be getting sepsis or MRSA or losing my left leg. That's for sure. The girl I was about to catch was far ahead because of my delay, but Casey and I went right on through the rest of the obstacles and finished together. So then we got to the end and the dude on the bullhorn at the end of the race totally calls me out to EVERYONE in the audience for not diving head first into the mudpit. If he wants to pay my doctor bill when my leg gets amputated, I will surely go back and jump in the mud. I love mud. I hated (technically) not finishing race.
Whatev. Figured I'd go get cleaned up at the Medic tent, and they had this humongous Medical bus there. Score. They have to be able to help a girl out. But, no. Who knew that buses labeled "Mass Trauma" aren't permitted to clean up knees? I had to get my own gloves, my own alcohol pads, and my own water to try and clean under the hanging flap of skin on my knee. Really? What kind of EMT business is this? No peroxide, no iodine, no help? So I promptly pulled my doctor from the finish line (Katie), and she cleaned me up.
Pam-0, Mother Nature- 2.
Here is a photo of my post-race wound experience (it's a sad look...pulling the sympathy card now). Later that night, we had mom and dad over to grill out. I hit my originally wounded knee (The right one...confusing, I know. I've confused myself) on a sharp corner. It broke open. Again. Mom and Kate were all like, "Oh it's bleeding!" And my natural instinct was, "Oh no, which one!" They laughed at me. Who else can actually say that? Casey's the best; ran and got me more bandaids; he takes care of me. Safe to say I have both knees bandaged up again. I guess at least now I'll have matching scars on both knees...The funny thing is, I saw a girl before our wave started yesterday, she had volleyball kneepads on. I laughed inside cause who wears knee pads to a race??...which was so mean of me, by the way. I'm not laughing anymore. I will probably be the girl with knee pads at the next race.
Shout out to Casey, Mom, Dad, and Katie for scurrying over and busting through every obstacle! Also to my ankle for holding up for me. RIP: dad's shoe lost in the mud. Next obstacle race up: Tough Mudder. It's on.
About Me
- Pamela K
- The youngest of three girls, I used to be the littlest lamb. Then I met a boy, fell deep in love, and now I'm a Krasen! But in my heart, I'll forever be my parents' Littlest Lamb too. I'm told I'm over-dramatic, and I prefer to think of it passionate about my feelings, but you know, whichever...I tell myself I love spontaneity, but let's be honest, if I didn't have organization, I would lose it. So I love planned spontaneity (totally not an oxymoron). I love loving. And I love to write. Enjoy the drama (passion), organization, and love as it unfolds in my life...a life that is not my own, but is dedicated to serving my God and my husband. And a life in which I am clothed in grace.
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