My Wife's Foot, Part I

I could see on my phone that the call was from my neighbor Noel. Ordinarily I would pick up, but I was already on a voice call and instant-message chat at the office.

Either he called again or I called Noel; he reported that my wife has broken her foot. At first he said an ambulance had taken her, then that the ambulance was on its way. I asked to speak with her, he said one moment, and I could hear my wife moaning and he reported that she could not speak. I told him I would leave immediately and asked if he could put the phone to hear ear. He did and I said "Hi sweetie, I'm leaving now and I'll see you soon". My mother-in-law, visiting from Florida, was out. Nine-year-old Charlie was at school. Twelve-year-old Abby was home, having stayed away from school on account of feeling poorly.

I did leave the office immediately. I felt a little sad that I would be missing my former supervisor's going-away party. Traffic was light as I was traveling at 1pm. About halfway home Noel called again to say that the ambulance was taking Julia to Rose Hospital, so I headed there. I drove a little faster than normal, but still safely, and still slower than the maniacs.

I parked at the hospital and ran inside and inquired at the front desk. They had no record of Julia and suggested I check with the emergency room. I inquired there; they also had no record, but the staffer said that loved ones arrived ahead of the patient 90% of the time. Another staffer behind the desk, listening over her shoulder, asked "last name White?" Julia was there, and the first staffer led me back to her three-walled-one-curtained room.

Julia looked sad and distressed. A young male doctor was pushing on various parts of her foot and asking about pain. A young female nurse was typing at a computer. Julia answered "yes" to three spots and "no" or "not sure" to the remainder. She said she felt faint and nauseous. They offered anti-nausea medication, which she declined.

Julia told me a little of what happened. She was standing on one of the tall chairs near the kitchen island when she fell. She had an intuition that the injury was very severe. She called out to Abby and had her find a neighbor. Julia felt faint and saw white, like a nuclear explosion.

The hospital staff wheeled an X-ray machine into the room and asked me to leave because of the radiation. Made sense, I thought, although I wondered later that none of them nor Julia wore lead vests. The machine was directed at her feet, so perhaps that was the reason. They took three pictures and wheeled the machine out. It was made by GE (General Electric?) and was self-propelled; possibly it was shielded by lead and too heavy to comfortably push.

Julia and I separately asked how long until results were back. Maybe we were aware that the images would be crucial to the diagnosis. The answer: "soon" or "not too long". And, it wasn't. The doctor returned to say that, although he was not qualified to render a definitive opinion, the second metatarsal was broken. An on-call podiatrist, Dr. Jaakkola, would look at them, too, although when could not be guaranteed. His opinion came within a few minutes and he confirmed the diagnosis. Even better, his office was in the Wolf Building, very close to the hospital, and he was available.

The original nurse assisted a new nurse with the application of a splint. Doing so was painful for Julia and she was angered that the second nurse did not explain what she would be doing before doing it. The splint consisted of a pad made of cotton and some other material. They wetted the pad, fit it around Julia's foot, ankle, and lower leg, and waited "three-to-five" minutes for it to harden, but I would say it was closer to six. They issued her a brand-new set of crutches, adjusted them to Julia's size, and sent us on our way. Except for the splint incident the care was first-rate and I told them so.

We walked to the waiting room, I left Julia there, ran back to the car, and drove to the emergency room parking lot. An attendant came over and quietly, but insistently, took my keys and gave me a receipt. It took a few moments for me to realize that, although the nurse had told us we could park in that lot, it made sense that the hospital would not want cars parked indefinitely, blocking space for ambulances. I walked in to the waiting room, helped Julia out, and the attendant offered and did pull the car closer for her comfort. I considered whether I should tip him and did not, not out of cheapness so much as perhaps he felt his role as a profession above receiving tips.

For several minutes I drove looking for the Wolf Building, only to return to the parking lot to ask for directions. The same attendant said to turn right at the end of the street, instead of left as I had assumed. The Wolf building provided valet parking, and only valet parking. We hobbled into the elevator, up to the fourth floor, and then a considerable distance to Dr. Jaakkola's office (ironic, given most of a podiatrist's patients must have at least some difficulty walking, but understandable given not all the doctors on the floor can have the one closest to the elevator). I completed the initial patient forms for Julia; I am still curious as to why most doctors use paper forms given how technologically advanced their work has become. For "emergency contact" I put myself, and was reminded of Steven Wright's joke: "When they asked for emergency contact information I wrote 'doctor'. How is my mom going to help?" The form asked, "Marital Status". I wrote "married", though I considered "happily married". The form asked, "how long has this condition existed". I wrote "3 hours".

I led Julia down the hallway to the examination room. The doctor stopped me and said "don't I know you from somewhere?" I tried but could not remember him. "Do you live in Stapleton," he asked. I said I did and we agreed that perhaps he had seen me around the neighborhood. He unwrapped the bandage around Julia's foot and examined it and the X-ray. He pointed to the spot where the break occurred and said he was further concerned by the inward slant of the bone leading to the bid toe. That might be an indication of a Lisfranc fracture. I had heard the term but did not know what it meant and told him so. The doctor suggested an MRI to get more information. Julia asked about a CAT scan and he said that would not be helpful. He also suggested another X-ray, this time with all of Julia's weight on the broken foot, if she could tolerate the pain. We asked if that X-ray could wait until a negative MRI result, and he said yes.

Julia and I returned to his waiting room while his staff sought an MRI appointment for us. We were hopeful we could get in today, or at least tomorrow (Friday). Still, we knew that if surgery were recommended that it would need to wait until the swelling subsided. The urgency was more in wanting to know, rather than needing to act.

I commented to Julia that the doctor did not seem 100% confident, and that we should take that as a good sign. I was recalling what I read from the invisible gorilla, that assuredness was, if anything, negatively correlated with accuracy.