#i just broke my fibula

[ruthwildersfibula]

Watched one (1) episode of GLOW today and now I am back on my bullshit. Be ready.

[stonelovesbeer]

On January 5th, 2019 while I was on my Harley some jackass ran me off the road while he was on his cell phone. I should have died. I ended up in the hospital for a year. 13 surgeries just to save the lower part of my left leg. It was shattered from the knee down. Broke in 13 places and a double compound of the Tibia and Fibula. Skin and bone infection and double pneumonia. I ended up with a titanium rod from my knee down to my ankle with 8 screws. All within a year.... No problem. And you're goddamned right I'm riding again. 💪🏻🍻🍻

[pseudophan]

When I broke my ankle you made a phibula joke. Why does this anon get nice Nora. Anyway, anon, I'd recommend calling ahead and they will probably let you in early. As its booked seats I don't think people will be pissy. For 10/10 attatch a "now KISS" sign to your crutches to hold up. Good luck!!

your fault for specifying it was the fibula, phankle just doesn't sound as good 🙄

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumptober 2023

No. 24 Broken Alt Prompt

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Commonwealth (post series/no France era)

Warnings: Broken bones, suggestive/sexual themes

“Daryl!”

You made it to the piping that allowed you to climb down the side of the building. Your group had to scale up on the other side of the iron gate. There was no time to open it and the walkers were right on your heels. With only a narrow, unsturdy ledge to get you all across, you had to move swiftly and yet with care and precision. 

The structure started crumbling when half your group had made it but gave way beneath Daryl as he was above the gate. He clipped the gate but luckily fell onto the side clear of the undead. If you could really call anything that had just happened lucky. 

The archer was moving at least by the time you reached him, dragging himself away from the rotten fingers grasping at his clothes from through the bars. 

“Hey, hey. Don’t move too much. Let me take a look at you.” You dropped your bag as your knees hit the concrete, hands hovering over him frantically. “What hurts?”

“Be easier ta tell ya wha’ don’ hurt.” He carefully lowered himself onto his back, needing a moment to gather his bearings. “Leg.” He finally gritted out. You nodded and turned your body toward his lower extremities. The wound was easy to spot, a dark patch near the middle of his left shin. 

“Looks like you landed on something. Broke the skin. Let me see how bad it is and if we should pull it out.”

Daryl rose to his elbows, the rest of the group forming a protective circle around the two of you. When you cut a larger opening in his jeans to access the wound, your face paled. 

“Shit.” You whispered, wide eyes staring at the very obvious fracture that had broken through the skin. Daryl’s expression matched your own. 

“Please don’ pull tha’ out.” He joked with no real humor in his tone. 

“What’re we dealing with?” Aaron asked with a quick glance over his shoulder. Once he spotted your stricken expression, he turned fully and kneeled beside you. 

“Broken. Looks like tibia but fibula could be fractured as well.” You weren’t a doctor but living in the apocalypse meant that you had brushed up on your medical knowledge. Sometimes, field medicine was required and it was vital to know the name and importance of parts. 

“We jus’ gon’ sit here n’ stare at my leg or we gonna get me up n’ do wha’ we came here fer?” Daryl snapped. He never liked being the center of attention and, with all eyes on him, he was becoming increasingly antsy. 

“The only place you’re going is home. Tomi’s gotta set this.” You started to wrap the wound as tight as you could without sacrificing circulation, wincing when Daryl shot forward with a muttered curse. “Sorry.”

“We don’ need ta go back. I can—”

You stopped him with a gentle hand over his mouth, shocked that it actually worked, though his brows did draw inward. There was definitely a scowl behind your palm. “I know you can. That doesn’t mean you should.”

“She’s right, Daryl.” 

Knowing when to admit defeat when it came to you, the bowman let himself fall back to lie flat with a muttered “fine.” You smiled fondly and patted the thigh of his uninjured leg. 

“Think you can spare anyone to help us get back?” You asked Aaron, chewing your lip. There were so few of you on this mission as it was. 

“Don’t need no one else.” Daryl grumbled, twisting to get his good leg under him. “Gimme a hand, woman.”

“You’re gonna hurt yourself worse being a stubborn ass.” You scolded, but grabbed his outstretched hand anyway. With the help of you and his crossbow, he was able to get to his feet. Well… foot. You placed his arm over your shoulders and gave Aaron a shrug. “I guess it’s just us. Good luck. See you at home.” 

Daryl mumbled a goodbye and then you were on your way. 

“Hey, sleepyhead.” You smiled down at the archer, your fingers smoothing and brushing his long hair away from his face. The two day journey had been rough on his injury, signs of mild infection setting in before you were able to get him back to the Commonwealth. Tomi recommended sedation for setting the bone and cleaning up the wound. Daryl had voiced his displeasure but in the end— after some persuasion from you— he had relented. 

“Leg hurts like hell.” The archer grumbled, maneuvering himself a little further up on the pillows. He swatted at your hands when you tried to help him. His lower left leg was in a cast that descended past his ankle and onto his foot. You watched his already pinched expression morph into one of disgust. 

“Can’t move your ankle without affecting those bones.” You explained. 

“Can’ hunt with one foot.” 

“Oh, you’re not doing any hunting, mister.” Your expression softened when his shifted into something approaching mortification. “We’ve got other hunters, Daryl. Think of this as a vacation.” You turned to grab the water glass from the table. 

“Fer how long?” 

Offering him a drink, you mumbled an inaudible response. He didn’t need to say a word, the flared nostrils and arched brow were enough. “Three or four months.” You winced. 

“Ya gotta be shittin’ me!” He snapped, not at all interested in the water you were offering him. 

“It was a bad break, Daryl.” 

“No shit.” His hands were over his face now, his muscles tense and breathing irregular. You hated to see him like this. Independence was important to Daryl but so was the need to carry his own weight around the community. He was losing both in one fell swoop. 

“It won’t be that bad, you know.” Your fingers wrapped around his wrists and he allowed you to lower his arms before he gave you the most pitiful pout you had ever seen. “You’ll see.”

You moved everything downstairs with the help of Carol and Aaron, turning your living room into a bedroom for the time being. Judith and RJ pitched in with cooking and cleaning, under your watchful eye, of course. 

Daryl was in a sour mood the day he was released to go home. The crutches were difficult to get used to, his leg ached, and he hated the looks people gave him as he hobbled by. He always felt inferior but those looks, to him, confirmed it. 

“Welcome home, Uncle Daryl!” The kids cheered as they threw open the door with Carol right behind them. The corner of his mouth twitched up the slightest bit and he nodded, begrudgingly accepting your help to step up over the threshold. You shared a look with Carol once he had headed through, her hand coming up to squeeze your shoulder. 

When Daryl saw the living room, he visibly deflated, shoulders slumping and head lowering. Carol hugged him from the side and tucked his hair behind his ear. 

“It’ll be okay.” She said quietly. “Okay, kids! Upstairs for homework! Then wash up for dinner!” Rubbing Daryl’s back for a moment longer, she smiled at you. “I’m going to finish up in the kitchen while you get him settled.” 

“Thank you.” You nodded. Daryl maneuvered around to the front of the couch, waiting while you followed so you take the crutches and help him sit down. You were quick to set the equipment aside in favor of helping him get his leg up and stretch out. You grabbed a pillow from the mattress on the floor and placed it against the couch arm so he could lie back. “Comfortable?” You crouched down and rubbed a hand up and down his sternum. 

“Mhm.” His expression was hardly convincing. You sighed and stood, bending to press a kiss to the crown of his head. “I’m gonna help Carol with dinner. Call for me if you need anything.” He nodded again, not meeting your eyes. You gave him one last glance before stepping out of the room. 

“He’ll be okay, Y/N.” 

“I know. I just hate seeing him like this.” You stared back toward the doorway, knowing Daryl was battling inwardly just beyond where you could see. You could only pray he’d settle and allow himself to rest and heal. 

A couple of days passed with you and Daryl settling into a routine. He did things around the house that he could. He rinsed and dried dishes you washed, leaning on one crutch or the countertop. He sat with the kids while they did homework and helped where he could. He made sure the kids got out the door on time for school and welcomed them home afterward. 

Honestly, anything that kept him out of bed or on the couch, he would try to do. You didn’t stand in his way unless he started showing signs of pain. After two days, it was getting a little better, easier to get by without pain medication around the clock. The constant throb had dulled to an ache. 

“You want something for lunch?” You asked, leaning over the back of the couch. Daryl’s eyes opened, his head tilting back to find you smiling down at him. 

“M’okay, thanks.” 

Your fingers busied themselves combing through his hair and scratching lightly over his scalp. You swore you could hear him start to purr. When his eyes closed, you hopped up to teeter on the back of the couch, pressing your lips to his. 

“You know, I can think of a few things you can do that don't require moving from that spot.”

Daryl opened his eyes and laughed as an exhale through his nose. “Oh yeah? S’that?” His smile remained as you comically wiggled back to get your feet onto the floor. 

Rounding to stand in front of him, you smiled with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. “It might even make you feel better.” You threw your leg over him and sat to straddle his hips. His hands came to rest on your sides, just below your ribs. 

“Think s’workin’ already.” Pressing the heel of his good foot into the cushions, he lifted his hips and ground up into you. 

You hummed approvingly. His hands were warm under yours while you guided him to the hem of your shirt. “I can’t seem to take this off by myself. Think you could help me out?”

“Don’ know, Sunshine. Seems like a helluva hassle.” You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled forth as he sat up, your shirt pushed up to your collarbone so he could press his mouth to the valley of your breasts. His fingers had just begun to tinker with the clasp of your bra when there came a knock at your door. 

You both glared in the direction of the entryway, Daryl growling in annoyance. 

“Ignore it.” He huffed, going back to what he was doing. 

“Wait, wait!” As much as you hated to put a damper on his good mood, “what if it’s about the kids?” The archer stilled and sat back. His shoulders dropped and he muttered a curse, jerking his chin toward the door. 

“G’on.” 

You adjusted your shirt and climbed off, shuffling quickly toward the door. When you opened it, you couldn’t stop the bewilderment in your expression. “Can I, um, help you?”

“Hi! I’m sorry to bother you. My name is Elizabeth.” The middle-aged woman shifted her weight from foot to foot, one hand fiddling with the covered baking pan in her arms. “I heard that Mr. Dixon got hurt. I’m real sorry.”

“It’s appreciated but he’s gonna be fine.” You smiled sincerely. “Just taking some time to heal up.”

“I heard.” Elizabeth nodded. “Anyway, back in the spring, when the hospital had the shortage, Mr. Dixon—”

“Please,” you interjected with a soft chuckle, “call him Daryl.”

Elizabeth looked a little uncertain but nodded regardless. “Daryl went out to find the antibiotics my son needed.”

“You’re Peter’s mom.” You remembered what she was talking about. Ezekiel had set up a council meeting to designate a group run. Daryl knew that the kid had been given a death sentence if antibiotics weren’t started within hours. He went out immediately, with only you having the knowledge that he had left. There were only a few places to raid that had previously been marked as too dangerous without a sizable group. He had returned, bloodied and bruised, but with enough antibiotics for several doses. “I hope he’s doing okay now.”

“He’s back to terrorizing his teacher and I. Thanks to Mr. D— I mean, Daryl.”

You felt tears threatening to gather and took a deep breath through you nose before smiling. “I’ll let him know how your kiddo is doing. He’ll be glad to hear it.”

“Oh! Well, I brought this. It’s not much and I had to compromise on some ingredients but it is good.” Elizabeth had no more than peeled back the edge of the towel and your mouth watered. 

“Lasagna. Wow! It's been a minute.” Putting out your hands to take the pan, you smiled brightly, excited to tell Daryl. “He’s going to be pretty damn happy.” You chuckled. 

“He’s the reason I still have my son. When I heard he was hurt, I just had to do something.” Your heart clenched and there were those damn tears again. “Anyway, please thank him for me and wish him a speedy recovery. Thank you, Mrs. Dixon.”

“Oh, I’m—”

“Have a good day!” 

“You…too.” You closed the door with a shrug, taking the pan to the kitchen. You couldn’t seem to dismiss the fluttering in your stomach induced by Elizabeth’s misconception. You placed the dish in the oven to warm later. It’d be a nice dinner for you, Daryl, Carol, and the kids. There wasn’t enough for you all to have much but sharing was something you had all perfected over the years. “Daryl, you’ll never guess who was—” 

He was already balanced in his elbow, waiting for you to finish your statement when you looked toward the entryway after another knock. 

“The hell could tha’ be?”

You shrugged and returned to the door, pulling it open only to find yet another person with an offering and story of appreciation for Daryl. You had no more than thanked them and put the cookies away when there came another knock. 

And another. 

And another. 

And another. 

You finally found time in between guests to explain things to Daryl. He had stared at you in disbelief, eyes shining, but before you could reassure him, there came another knock. You patted his cheek affectionately and continued your endless journeys between the door and the kitchen. 

The kids came home and started to help. Judith assisted RJ with putting away main courses and side dishes. Freezing things that could be and refrigerating what needed it. It was just around dusk when the last knock came. You heard the story and thanked them on Daryl’s behalf, smiling as you closed the door and leaned against it. 

When you returned to the kitchen this time, Daryl was in the doorway with his crutches, watching with an unreadable expression as the kids moved around to put the items away. 

“Ya were serious then?” He asked quietly. 

You snorted. “Not something I’d lie about, Dixon.”

He nodded, his brow creasing. “Don’ help people so they do stuff fer me when shit happens.”

“I know that. So do they.”

He nodded again, this time with a sniff. “Okay.” He positioned his crutches and left for the living room again. You didn’t let him know you had seen the tear fall. You just smiled toward where he had been standing and then continued to help the kids. 

After lasagna, you gave Daryl a break and sat with Judith and RJ for homework time, then sent them to bed with promises of a board game over the weekend. By the time you crawled onto the mattress by the fire, finding Daryl already there— you’d let it slide this time that you knew he needed help and probably made his leg hurt— and staring up at the ceiling. 

On your side to face him, you rubbed your hand over his bare bicep. “Penny for your thoughts.” His eyes slid to the corner to look at you and then back to the obviously more interesting ceiling. 

He cleared his throat. “Jus’, uh… jus’ wonderin’ why them folks went ta all tha’ trouble.”

Your smile was sad this time. “Because you’re important to this community. They care about you.”

“Y’mean they care ‘bout the things I do.”

“No. I don’t.” Sitting up, you turned to sit on your hip. “Why is it so hard to think that people genuinely care about you?”

“Y’know why.” He countered dryly. 

You nodded. “You’re right. I do. I just thought that after all these years, you’d gotten past that.” He sighed, lifting an arm to lay it across his eyes. “You’ve done so much for these people, Daryl. You’ve shown what a good man you are. You’ve earned your place here. You’ve become one of them. And they have grown to care about you; about all of us.”

He moved his arm again, resting it on his chest. “Ya really think so, don’tcha?”

“I know so.” You stated matter-of-factly. He hummed, seeming to mull over your words. When he didn’t say anything else, you crawled over, successfully closing the gap between you. “I think you have some things you were supposed to do for me, Mr. Dixon.”

The corner of his mouth raised into a half-smile. “Ya gonna make me lasagna after I do stuff fer ya?”

“Depends on how well you do it.” You had already bent down to press your lips to the side of his neck while your palms caressed his chest and abdomen. 

“That sounds almos’ like a challenge, Mrs. Dixon.”

There was a smile against his skin. “Heard that part, huh?”

“Maybe.” His large hands grabbed your hips to guide you onto his lap. “I think I liked the sound of it.”

“Are you asking me to marry you?” Your head was tilted while your finger traced shapes over his sternum. He chuckled. 

“Not yet. Ain’t no fun if’n ya know it’s comin’.” He reached to brush his knuckles down your jaw. You let your eyes flutter closed and leaned into the touch. “Would ya say ‘yes’?”

You hummed, leaning down to capture his lips, gently working your mouth over his for but a moment. “Ain’t no fun if’n ya know what I’d say.” You had lowered your voice and tried to rasp each word. 

“Guess we’ll jus’ hafta be surprised then, huh?” He pushed up your shirt, urging you to remove it. You quickly obliged and tossed it somewhere outside the light of the fire. You unhooked the clasp of your bra and allowed it to join your shirt. 

“Guess so.” His hands immediately found your breasts, rolling your hardened nipples between thumb and forefinger. “Now, let me show you how I say thank you.”

He full on laughed, a sound you didn’t hear often enough but cherished just the same; hearty and warm. “Yes, ma’am.”

[my-illness-and-me]

So I want to be an EMT. Always have. And my high school offers a year long course where I can graduate with my EMT license. And I signed up. And I got put in it. And school starts on the 14th. In two days. Which fine. Great even. Except I got hit by a car in January and broke my tibia and fibula. Which okay, whatever. I had a tib/fib ORIF procedure with IM nailing. Along with other hardware. Which AMAZING. Heal that bone! And I know they said it'd never be the same. I know it. I know it. I know. I know it. I swear I do. They've been telling me that for 8 months and 8 days now. Except it's just now really hitting me what that means. Being an EMT requires heavy lifting and going up and down stairs with heavy equipment and CPR and I can't do those things anymore. I can't. I've tried. So damn hard. And I need another surgery which is another recovery and will make the class even more impossible. So I think I'm dropping the class. I think I'm giving up. And I don't know what to do with my life now because FUCK MAN this HURTS.

[moonblossom]

Where I've been for a week...

This gets graphic about physical injury below the cut, so please don't read if that's something you're not up for right now. TL;DR I fell down the stairs and massively fucked up both my legs.

So last Tuesday, I was working from home as I usually do. I went upstairs to have a coffee and some banana bread my dad made. While up there, I realised I'd forgotten to set my work phone to DND so I hurried up and ran down the stairs to my room where my office is.

Big mistake.

The stairs into my room are varnished wood, awkward heights, and not very well lit. I slipped and missed my footing, which has happened a million times before.

This is where things get unpleasant. Read on with caution.

Somehow, both the tibia and fibula in my right leg snapped in half with enough force to drive them both through the front of my shin.

I was in and out of consciousness, but I do remember being surrounded by what felt like 40 EMTs (was closer to ten according to my folks - three ambulances showed up), one of whom was utterly charmed by my lizard. He looked about twelve. Bless him for distracting me while one of his partners cut open my favourite lounge pants and shoved the bones back inside my leg. I was not wearing underwear at the time.

We get to the Montreal General Hospital in... mediocre time, due to a fuckton of construction and detours. Bienvenue a Montreal, fuck right off.

They put me straight into a trauma unit and pumped me full of fentanyl and antibiotics. I vaguely remember one of the EMTs referring to my pain level as a "fifteen out of ten". They checked my entire body to make sure nothing else was injured, both manual and ultrasound to make sure I still had my spleen and shit. Thankfully, all my innards are still functional. They cut the remaining shreds of my pants off but managed to get my tank top off without too much drama. Someone was kind enough to drape a hospital gown over my boobs and... possibly my crotch? I was in too much pain to give a crap at this point.

They manage to take a few x-rays while I curse them and their ancestors and the hospital and just... the entire fucking world, and then fill me up with some delightful cocktail of propofol and ketamine. I remember very little after this point, but apparently they yanked my leg into place, noticing my right left ankle was severely sprained in the process. So that was fun. Apparently I cursed a bunch more, and made a bunch of jokes that were likely inappropriate but broke the tension I guess?

I "woke up" from the cocktail feeling like I was underwater, and then convinced I was inside Disney Dreamlight Valley, which frankly was a lovely way to come out of sedation. I think I was picking flowers with Mirabel Madrigal.

At some point during all this nonsense my mother managed to get in touch with my boss who was adamant that I take as long as needed, which was a good thing. My dad came to the hospital with me but they wouldn't let him into the trauma unit. It was very chaotic and crowded and likely gross to watch so I get it.

After the realignment, they pushed my gurney to the space between X-Ray and CT to get better scans. They were both occupied so I sat in the hall for a few minutes and vaguely remember saying "Bonjour, hi!" and "Can I help you?" to random people who passed me. Once a retail worker, always a retail worker, apparently.

CT confirmed I also had a broken bone in my left foot. They moved me into ER main, put a boot on the left and bandaged up the wound. I was told I'd need surgery but they were so overwhelmed (ER was like at 160% capacity or something) so they had no idea when I'd be cleared.

They brought me dinner which claimed to be frittata and mashed potatoes but I'm fairly certain was actually upholstery foam and wallpaper paste. Thankfully it was so unappetizing I didn't eat more than a few bites, because my nurse was like "Hey so you're next on the OR list. If they ask if you ate, say no." XD Bless you Meagan, you saved my arse multiple times. You are a sarcastic, foul-mouthed, adorable angel among nurses (and really all the nurses were lovely). About an hour later they wheel me up to the ER, wash me down as best they can, and start prepping me. I meet the surgeon, who is as brusque and no-nonsense as orthopedic surgeons tend to be, but he did take the time to explain the whole procedure and risks, and make sure I was comfortable and understood.

What they were gonna do was drill down through my knee and insert a titanium rod down the centre of the entire tibia. The fibula was close enough and a clean enough break that it could rely on the tibia's stabilisation. Fun note about this particular surgery - you can walk on it within days of it being installed. No cast or anything!

The anaesthetist suggested a sedative and a spinal block (similar to an epidural) rather than a full unconscious anaesthetic because of my medical history and they're just generally less dangerous. However, it turns out the sheath around my synovial spaces in my spine is made out of fucking Kevlar or something. They bent SEVEN NEEDLES trying to get a shot in. Took about 45 minutes. I was numb so it was nbd but it was like... ten PM at this point and everyone was tired so when the anaesthetist was like "I think we should do a general" I was like "sign me the fuck up where's the consent form" I woke up a few hours later in the PACU (post-anaesthetic care unit) with a titanium upgrade, 37 staples in four separate locations, an incredibly fashionable thigh-high bandage, and my mother at my side. I faded in and out for about an hour and then remember being in a tiny little private room with its own bathroom. A total luxury in our older hospitals (The MGH as an institution has been around since the 1800s and the building I was in was built in 1955 - the bathroom even had adorable black and white tiling typical of the bathrooms of that era). That's pretty much all the dramatic bits of the story. They kept me for a week working with nurses, orthopedic residents, and physiotherapists until they were comfortable enough that I could move around enough at home to attend to my basic needs. I have crutches, a walker, a rolling commode so I can do the needful literally a foot from my med, a desk that slides over my bed, and thankfully two incredibly patient and indulgent parents. I'm fairly certain they never expected to be cleaning their 42 year old daughter's poop out of a bucket, but what can you do?

If anyone is genuinely curious, I have photos and would be willing to write up the hospital stay itself but 90% of it will be me complaining about the other patients on the ward who screamed at the nurses for everything and if I'd been able to walk I would have smothered with a pillow, or the "food" they tried to feed me which got increasingly inedible as the week went on.

If you've read this far, bless you. If you leave a note or message me I'll do my best to reply but I'm floating in and out of a dilaudid-infused haze so it might be a while.

At this point I'm not too proud (or possibly I've just lost whatever shame I had left when they cut my pants off), if you feel like sending me a get-well gift my amazon wishlists are here: general wishes | https://www.amazon.ca/hz/wishlist/ls/1K85M74WULR1N?ref_=wl_share

craft supplies | https://www.amazon.ca/hz/wishlist/ls/PXBKTW4UK0AQ?ref_=wl_share

US wishlist | https://www.amazon.com/hz/wishlist/ls/2MT3KS1ZDZG0O?ref_=wl_share

(stuff will be delivered to my boyfriend and I'll open it whenever I'm allowed to fly down there)

[i-am-thoroughly-confused]

so uhm

I fainted yesterday, fell, and the broke my fibula- so uh

yeah…. :’/

(I’m good now just in pain and in a temporary cast thing until I can get proper X-rays)

[reelaroundthedavekan]

So the last week and a half has been filled with some not fun stuff, culminating in Return to Office today. I just need to type all this out so please do not feel obligated to read any of this.

Let me explain in bullet list form...

We had a lovely christmas morning with waffles and a few presents

On christmas afternoon, Peter was on his way to his car when he slipped on a patch of ice, landed badly and broke his leg (fibula, mostly, tibia less so but still). [he is doing ok now, spoiler alert]

It certainly could have been worse, luckily he did not hurt his back or head, but he really fucked up his fibula, pardon my bellicosity.

At the time, we were hoping it was sprained as initially there was no swelling or bruising and he wasn't in a lot of pain and we decided we didn't need to spend christmas night in the ER.

On Boxing day we took him to the urgent care, because it had swollen and bruised overnight. We got to sit in the waiting room for 1.5 hours and watch The Santa Clause 2 (which is a really weird movie as it turns out). We then got to go back to a room and wait for the Dr and x-rays...and got to watch the Santa Clause 2 again.

The Dr came in, took a glance at his ankle and she said "oh that looks broken", so our hopes of sprain were gone quickly.

X-rays confirmed a nasty spiral break of the fibula and a smaller fracture of the tibia. It is usually not good when the Dr says "I haven't seen a break like that before".

She put on a splint and wrapped the hell out of it, sent us home with crutches and referred us to an Ortho Trauma office. Luckily it was the office of a Dr that my mom (long time Orthopedic OR Nurse) had worked with.

My mom was able to call him and he called us back very quickly, which was great because he was on vacation for the week. My mom has pull. He was able to look at the x-rays and also commented on how bad the break was. Talked Peter through everything and had his scheduling coordinator call us. Surgery was schedule for Tuesday, January 2nd...

...which happened to be Peter's 21st birthday [sad trombone]

So the week was spent trying keep him comfortable, managing the pain, figuring how to shower and keep the splint dry.

Yesterday morning he went to the DMV to get his new license and then we were off to the hospital. We got there at 10:15 AM and we left at about 5 PM. The surgery went great (a plate and 9 screws) and we got him home. He'll be in a splint for 2 more weeks and then after the sutures come out will switch to a boot and possibly one of those rollie knee scooters.

He goes back to campus on the 16th, follow up appointment is the 18th. Hopefully he will be able to get around OK.

And then today I got to go into the office and work (Mon/Wed/Thur in office, Tue/Fri at home). I know it is not necessarily a big deal, but I have been working from home for almost 20 years, so it is a weird thing for me.

Plus it is at a very large company with a lot of people all going back at the same time. I haven't sat at a cubicle for closer to 25 years and to have this many people around me all making a lot of noise was really jarring. I don't like it and I am not going to like it and I will be grumpy about it for a while.

[rafesthroatbaby]

Babes come save me 🙂‍↕️ I broke my leg??? Tibia and fibula SNAPPED???

girl I need to be saved too so we might just die together 😂😭😭 FRAT DADDY CAN GET IT ALL

[seventytwoowls]

Metal rods?

All seventy two of you!?

Nah, just 10 of us :)

ID: An x-ray of someone’s right ankle following a reconstructive surgery. The fibula is supported by a long metal plate held in place by eight screws, of which the two in the middle point inward to support the point where the bone broke. Running into and through the tibia is two pins. One is straight and buried entirely inside the tibia. The other one is longer, and its hooked end sticks partially outside of the bone. (end ID)

When I was delirious in the week following my surgery I kept mumbling ‘I’m on metal rods. metal rods and oxy’ to myself. In case anyone is wondering how my April went

[gaelic-symphony]

A Year in the Life: September

Twelve vignettes from the married life of Tara Lewis and Emily Prentiss, written for the Year of the OTP writing challenge.

Prompt: Hurt/comfort. Also fills the square "I'll take care of you" for @prentiss-theorem's bingo challenge.

Words: 652

Warnings: Hospitals, minor injuries (nothing too graphic)

Read on AO3 or below the cut

            Chasing after unsubs in boots over uneven terrain meant there was always the possibility of injury, and Tara felt the pop as her leg gave way beneath her and she tumbled to the ground.  An x-ray at the hospital confirmed it: Her ankle was broken.  Emily rushed over to the hospital as soon as she got the call from Matt that Tara was hurt, and she flung open the door to the hospital room where an orthopedist was preparing gauze and plaster to wrap Tara’s ankle.

            “Tara, honey, what happened?” she cried as she hurried over to her wife’s side.

            “I’m okay,” Tara assured her, “I just fell, no big deal.”

            “Your wife has a lateral malleolus fracture,” the doctor said, “The lower part of her fibula is broken.  It’s a clean break, and she’ll make a full recovery without surgery.  There’s no need to worry, Mrs. Lewis.”

            Emily felt a little flush and a pleasant tingle in her spine at hearing herself addressed that way, and she smiled down at Tara and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

            “Okay, now, Tara, this will probably hurt a bit,” the doctor continued, “But before I put the cast on, I need to realign the bone so it’ll heal properly.”

            “Need a hand to hold, babe?” Emily offered, extending her hand to Tara.

            Tara grabbed Emily’s hand, and the doctor gently put his hand on Tara’s swollen ankle, letting her take a breath and prepare herself for what he was about to do.  He squeezed her ankle joint, expertly manipulating everything back into place.  Tara groaned in pain and grasped Emily’s hand as tight as she could, her fingernails digging into Emily’s skin.  With her free hand, Emily gently stroked Tara’s hair and planted a soothing kiss on the top of her head.  Once the doctor had finished setting the bone, Tara relaxed her grip on Emily’s hand and pulled it closer to kiss it.

            “You’re doing great, Tara,” the doctor said, “The hard part’s over.”

            “Are you sure the hard part’s not going to be having this big heavy cast on my leg for the next six weeks?” Tara chuckled wryly.

            The doctor began wrapping Tara’s ankle, first in soft gauze, then in hard plaster.  It was still tender, and Tara would occasionally wince in pain as the layers of the cast were added to particularly sensitive spots.  Each time she winced, Emily wrapped her arm around Tara’s shoulders a little tighter and pulled her a little closer, as if she were trying to protect her wife from the pain.

            “Last time I had a cast it was lime green,” Tara said wistfully, looking at the plain white plaster the doctor had just encased her leg in.

            “How old were you?” Emily laughed.

            “Eleven,” Tara said, “I fell off my bike and broke my arm.”

            “Did all your friends sign your cast?” Emily asked.

            “Of course!” Tara replied, “That was the best part!”

            “Maybe you can get the team to sign your cast back at the office,” Emily joked.

            “Guess I’m gonna be spending a lot of time there now,” Tara grumbled, “How long until I’m back in the field, doctor?”

            “Oh, it’ll be at least a couple of months,” the doctor said, “Even once the cast comes off, you’ll still have some healing to do.  Your body can’t just bounce back from a broken bone like it did when you were eleven.  You’ll need to stay off that ankle and ease back into things.  Don’t push yourself too hard.”

            “I’ll make sure she doesn’t overdo it, doc,” Emily assured him.

            Tara rolled her eyes.  “Emily…”

            “Nuh uh,” Emily shook her head, “Don’t even bother arguing.  I’m taking you home, and you’re going to get plenty of rest.”

            “Don’t you have to get back to work?” Tara asked.

            “The team can take care of the case,” Emily said, “I’ll take care of you.”

[sunsetstarving]

ok hi i like think i talked abt your ocs with you when you first shared the slides with me but i was going through my drive and i saw it again and i was like ok wait let me look! and i now have Thoughts

- FIRST OFF nefise is like so eldest daughter immigrant trauma. if this makes sense. i also understand why she turns evil for a bit

- dani's like my fave ever btw im like so not normal abt him. just the implications of the whole being someone whos always positive and optimistic (slightly delusional) and then starting to lose all that when the world starts ending. starting to lose yourself bc youre the literal fucking symbol of hope but you cant bring yourslef to be the least bit hopeful. god. rattling him around in my brain

- pls give kore a kazoo. im begging. also a turtle fits the green theme. shes like the coolest btw and i get the whole. like wanting to be someones first chocie but you feel like theyre always going to choose someone that they can love and love them romantically and hating yourself a little bit for not being able to like ouchhh man why you gotta zir like that. ough

- TESNIS LIKE THE BIGGEST LOSER im so obsessed w her. i love that you made her a jock but also a debate kid i think thats the funniest combo. also like the whole trying to remain unchanging/constant like the "if it aint broke dont fix it" mentality but then it DOES break and DANI breaks so then she HAS to change to fix it and. arhghghgh

- felicite!!!!! dude. ok the implications of her being the symbol of chance and the fact that the symbol of chance even exists at all is so crazy to me because like yeah. sometimes it truly is Like That. sometimes things are so out of your control and you can do nothing to stop it its just pure fucking luck and fate and the univesre shifting and ohhhhh god. i am so !!!! amped abt her and skull/fibula btw

- YOOO nefise and dani. idk if youve watched jjk but they are So satosugu coded i will elaborate if youd like but this is rlly long already i might have to take this to disc

- tesni and delshad WILL drive me insane. the absolute vulnerability and horrors of being so deeply known........ ugh

- said this already but. felicite and skull chance and death like broooo the fact that something so horrible something that takes so much from ppl is so closely tied to the concept of randomness and the unknwon. driving me insane

ANYWAYSSS thats like all of it um. yes i have thoughts! anyways

HIIII okay i finally got on desktop it took me a little bit we have been going everywhere. traveling is enjoyable sometimes but also...not always lmao BUT ANYWAY ILY AUGH i've been thinking abt this since last night. HELP all lighthearted but i do not think u ever said anything!! only the discord interaction i have been waiting ever since and boy oh boy.... the personal connection to every single one of them and the way u pointed them out immediately.

YEAH nefise is kind of just Like That. it came with the territory (being the asian character i project on forever) and also like..... the turning evil bit is everything to me bc the way she regrets none of it when she thinks about it from a distance but all it took was the sliver of hesitation, the flicker of exhaustion from constantly throwing herself at every problem, to simply take her down completely and have the team lose her. Yeah

dani my beloved... he was the original knight concept too. upon seeing this i HAD to draw him being a miserable fucker (<- phone battery ran out i will send these once i can grab some pictures!!) *jeopardy voice* what is burning out from the expectation to lead your world to the future despite having none of what you're supposed to be giving

YEAHHHH YOU GET IT. the. knowing that you're not broken and that this is just you but then the people you love make it feel like you shouldn't be the way that you are, that you need to change? forever experience. and while it continues to hurt and i don't think we can escape it i think good friends are a good remedy for the pain... and also ur so right they need a turtle so bad

and AHAHAHA tesni wahoo loser overachiever asian parents' favorite child (good at everything) and also biggest problem (anger issues) of all time. also love the family drama aspect like Yeah ofc she's going to have to change and yield and give ground. she has a sibling to take care of damn it

FELICITE AND FIBULA AOUGH.... this is so funny bc i literally had no clue what she was going to be but then chance sounded good. and then i was like Oh. the Implications of this are horrific. additionally yeah i think abt it all the time.... i've been following this comic series on instagram abt the grim reaper being a kind guy bc he's the messenger, not the one who controls any of it, and like... ouch, you know? the fact that it is unfair and horrible and there is no good timing about it. that sometimes it lines up just in time for a hilarious pun. death and chance being intertwined in the most cosmically random ways but in ways that absolutely make sense.

I STILL HAVEN'T the urge to ask vs the urge to wait until i've gotten to it vs the knowledge i will Not be doing that any time soon and. i should probably ask. pls tell me more in disc i would love to hear

tesni and delshad will kill me btw. that's like. going to suck. i'm gonna be so emotions about it bc it is not something i have yet delved into but i think abt it all the time. even more family drama. all of them scrambling to adjust to some of the most awful news one can never take back. grahh or whatever

anyway. i love this i love u i am SOOO happy you sent this!!!!! i am always so ecstatic to talk about the kids they are so beloved to me fr <333

[orgyofthedamned]

so fucking stressed rn bro. this is my day off after a long week. my mom just called from the hospital tellin me she broke her fibula after taking a nasty fall. im 5 states away unable to be by her side, worrying if i can finish this new commission type in the next 3 days before i leave for TFF. the bag prototype i was hoping to start taking preorders for @ con most likely wont arrive in time. i want to relax, but i have no desire to drink or be high. how can i be inebriated and enjoy myself when my mother is in such pain? it wouldnt be fair

[mylifewithpokemonbyexopowder]

Vent

On Saturday last week, I fell off a skateboard and broke my tibia and fibula. I’m still in the hospital. I have had surgery and the doctors say it went well, but I can’t help this feeling of anxiety and homesickness, and the pain is so much to bear. I was feeling strong at first, but now I feel like I’m losing hope and I’m crying my eyes out from the anxiety, pain and desperation.

I just want to go home. And I want the pain to stop.

[darsynia]

TW: talk of bone injuries. TL;DR: not all breaks heal neatly, ON PURPOSE oh my god

So, in 2016 I broke my leg rather catastrophically. I also dislocated my ankle. I can tell that story sometime but this little bit is actually about the crazy fucking fact that if you spiral fracture your leg and it... splinters, I guess is the best term, they uh, they don't do anything about that. Like in my leg right now, 7 years later, there's the healed fibula bone, and then there's just a thing sticking out. Made of bone. Luckily I can't feel it (though when I had hardware I could feel the screw heads).

I guess it makes sense, right, cause what are they going to do? SAW IT OFF? I imagine they do if it'll be a problem but not for me, folks. So if some idiot murders me and tries to hide my fucking body that sweet summer child is probably going to cut off my head and my hands and be like FUCK YEAH no identification.

Naw bitch. The hardware is out (cause it failed, yeah that can happen, cinematic life go brrr) but that little bone buddy is here to wreck your day.

I put the pic on here and lemme tell you, nah. It just... feels too weird. So here is a link to the picture instead lol. Literally it's just an x ray of a leg bone with an upside-down Y shaped PIECE OF BONE JUST STICKING OUT what the fuck this is just always there in my leg and now I don't have to be the only person who knows that.

I have a picture of the ankle dislocation too. I'm not linking that lol.

OH AND IT HAPPENED 2 DAYS BEFORE THANKSGIVING. They tried to tell me I had to live with the broken bones for a week because everyone wanted to have their holiday and didn't I understand that?? 'Well put you in a nursing home it'll be fine.'

This one I can show you. I crotcheted it a little hat.

[dreaminlittlenightmares]

I have two Ideas for a story. 1:The Hunter gives the Thin man a piece of his mind in front of the other pale city adults. 2:The docter asks the hunter about the mannekin parts in his attic.I would really like to see one of these.you can do none of them if you like.You can do both if you like.But i would really love to see at least one of them.

I went with the latter because I need the Hunter to answer some questions...

Title: Stitches Word Count: 802 Characters: the Hunter, the Doctor CW: Mild Language Use

The Hunter let out a low, deep growl.

"Stop growling," the Doctor muttered coldly, "You're not an animal."

"Do you have to be so slow about it?" the Hunter growled anyway, "It's just a flesh wound." The Doctor looked away from the Hunter's injured leg with a frown. Without remorse, he squeezed the wound, which prompt a sharp yelp from his friend.

"I don't know if you broke your Tibia or Fibula, but your screaming tells me your "flesh wound" has more damage." The Doctor turned his attention back to the Hunter's leg, and went back to wrapping. He was almost done. "I'm honestly still not sure how you keep falling for your own traps."

"Tch, it wasn't a trap this time." The Hunter laid back down on the wooden floor, arms crossed. "I just twisted my ankle on some roots and fell into a thorn bush."

"That was near one of your bear traps," the Doctor added, "Which still means you could have broken something. You did crawl back to your cabin, after all."

"Oh, shut up."

The Doctor looked back at the Hunter for a second. He knew his friend was stubborn and proud. He wouldn't be here treating him if this was a measly twisted ankle. The Hunter was used to fixing himself. This injury had to be more, but without an x-ray machine, the Doctor could only guess and be cautious. "You should have stayed where you were. If, by the off chance you didn't break anything, there's still a chance of a hairline fracture. Moving around could have made it worse."

The Hunter picked up his head and glared from behind his burlap mask. "And stay out in the woods at the mercy of the elements and monsters? Hah! I'd rather break the bone."

The Doctor shook his head. "Well, let me know if you want to really break you leg." He tightened the wrappings and tied them tightly. He was a bit too rough with his patient. The Hunter let out a gasp and snarled through his teeth.

"GAH! At this rate, you might as well saw it off, Doc!"

"Don't be dramatic." The Doctor rolled back and peeled off the plastic snack bags off his hands. He didn't have gloves, but he was still hygienic. The plastic bags were a good substitute to keep him from touching blood. "I tied it tight to keep it in place. If I had something to act as a split, it would be looser."

"A splint?" the Hunter asked, "I mean, there's probably something in the attic you could use. I have plenty of wood up there."

"Oh?" The Doctor looked up at the ceiling. "I suppose I can use something there, if you don't mind?"

"Whatever." The Hunter pushed himself into a sitting position. "The attic hatch is in the other room."

The Doctor left and crawled through the attic door. Once up there, he started to sneeze. He didn't want to stay long in the dusty room, and thankfully, he didn't have to. On his left, there was a crate of wooden pieces that were long enough to use as a splint. He took one and inspected it. It looked familiar. Wait…this was a piece of a mannequin from his Hospital! The Doctor dug into the crate again. The entire thing was filled with mannequin patient parts! No wonder he was missing a few pieces when he did inventory. The Doctor grabbed a leg and headed back downstairs.

"What is the meaning of this!?" The Doctor above the Hunter from the ceiling and shook the leg part he found.

The Hunter squinted at the leg. "I still have that!?" he exclaimed in disbelief.

"What is this doing in your attic?"

"…oh right! Yeah…" The Hunter scratched the back of his head. "I was trying to make an endoskeleton for one of my taxidermies. The mobility of the patients was impressive, so I must have taken one."

"But HOW!?" the Doctor swung down to be face to face with the Hunter. "Those parts are under lock and key. I don't part with them unless they're being used for surgery. You have, at least, two crates up there. How did you get them?"

The Hunter shrugged. "Ordered them? I don't know. I entirely forgot I had those. After I realized having a taxidermy mount that could move was a creepy-bad idea, I gave up on the project. Do you want them back?"

The Doctor poked his stubby finger into the Hunter's nose. "If you steal from me again, Hunter, I'll make YOU into a taxidermy-mannequin-patient project." His voice grumbled in a dangerous tone. The usually passive doctor only used that voice when he was truly angry, and it was always effective.

The Hunter shrunk back in fear. "Yes, sir!"