One Foot Wrong: The Pop That's Changing Everything.

I knew as soon as my foot hit the ground that something had gone wrong; I felt- in fact, I swear I even heard, a popping noise, felt something go bad around my right knee, before agony enveloped me and I fell to the ground, rotating so that knee wouldn't take the hit.

Outwardly, I screamed, lying there, grasping at my leg in the intense, gentle and cautious way you do when you know you've seriously messed yourself up, but are afraid that touching it will make it worse.
"That's not right," I remember exclaiming between the stream of profanity as my mind raced to process all the signals my body was sending me, the internal damage assessment. "That's wrong- that shouldn't be like that."

Facedown on the cool floor of the parking garage, I waited, trying to breathe, for the ambulance my friends called to come.

They checked my leg for telltale signs that usually show up in a break almost immediately- mainly, swelling and bruising- but neither were there. Still, when they moved my leg, I shouted out.
Even as I struggled with the pain, I scolded myself for the reaction- after all, all I'd done was stepped off a curb. My foot had landed normally, more or less- just the position of my knee was wonky (poor timing, bad judgement as far as the height of the curb); it had locked straight when it should have been bending. It was a move I'd made before and, while uncomfortable, had never resulted in damage. So, I figured, I couldn't have done anything too serious. Perhaps I tore something, perhaps I tweaked a nerve or- popped my knee partially out and back in wrong. I don't have a lot of knowledge as far as the anatomy of my limbs, but I was mad at myself because I kept thinking 'You couldn't have done anything that bad, and yet here you are, handling what seriously isn't even the worst pain you've experienced so poorly. You're being a wimp about this. Get a hold of yourself. Calm down.'

The paramedics gently and carefully loaded me into the ambulance and set off. Every time my leg jolted or moved, it continued to send signals- not just of pain, but of wrongness. Things weren't moving together as they should be. There was a sense that one part was moving out of sync with everything else. It was an extremely disconcerting feeling.

That was two days ago, and now I know that that feeling probably means that something is actually broken.
When I had stepped off that curb, the pop I felt/heard had been me fracturing the tibia of my right leg. Not a standard fracture, either. It's called a compression fracture, and it basically means that my bone broke- but also kind of crunched inwards on itself.

Because of the type of fracture, I'm going to need surgery. More specifically, I'm going to have at least 1 metal plate and a few screws put into my leg. It's possible that I will need a plate on either side. From what I understand, the surgeon won't know precisely until he opens me up.

So basically, I stepped off of a curb- that's literally all - and managed to break myself in such a way that I'll actually need reconstructive surgery that will add hardware to me which will be there for the rest of my life. I stepped off of a curb, and ensured that for the next six months, my life will stop.
I won't be able to have a job that requires any regular commitment.
I won't be able to even put weight on my leg for the first 3 weeks, at least.
It will be 6 months before I will be able to walk without a cane again.
I won't be able to have classes.
I can't finally learn to drive.
I can't go many places.
I won't be able to spend any real time without my leg elevated.

I'm trying really really hard to find a good outcome, but it's still early and all pretty overwhelming. But sitting here in my hospital bed in this sweltering room, I have little else to do but think...So this is probably far from the last post on this topic.

It's a big change; a huge change, a kick in the teeth when there's already so much to fight.

But I guess for now, I'll just have to see what happens next.
I have a feeling that my posts aren't going to be particularly well written over the next few weeks...So, sorry, reader, if you are out there, but as always, feel free to stay if you'd like.

Bentonite Clay? Guinea Pig Time!!

A few months ago, I stumbled into an article hailing the merits of bentonite clay, especially for skin. After a lot more research, I purchased a bag of bentonite clay powder, along with some rosehip seed oil and shea oil, from an online store.

It's been sitting in my spice cabinet ever since.

However, after a particularly hard two weeks (huzzah for bronchitis and being put on a prednisone taper), my skin was a mess. Since I have a grand total of one day left of prednisone, I decided that now was the time to suck it up and try out bentonite clay.

I chose my right forearm for the experiment, since for some reason my forearms got the brunt of the breakout, and are covered in red irritation. I mixed one part clay powder with 2 parts water (I used 3, actually, since all 2 did was turn the bentonite into a clumpy, half wet half dry unmixable mess). Mixing the clay was no picnic- it's a very thick consistancy, and you can't use a metal utensil because the metal does something to the clay (I'll link some articles if this  turns out to be an effective treatment), so I used a big plastic bowl and a whisk made of a nonstick material. When all the whisk did was give the clay mixture somewhere else to stick, I switched to a wooden and silicone spatula, which more or less did the trick.

Then, I applied a layer of clay to my forearm, wrapping my forearm in plastic to keep the clay moist (see pictures below).

Now, I feel a bit like poorly wrapped leftovers, but at least the clay is still moist, and isn't getting everywhere while it does its work. 

It's been ten minutes, and I think that, after another five, I'll remove the compress.

So far, the bentonite hasn't caused any irritation that I can feel- the skin under the plastic, however, is starting to feel pretty uncomfortable- if this works, I'll have to find a different way to do things so the rest of the arm isn't just touching the plastic.

Okay, it's 10:33 a.m... at 10:38, I'll remove the clay and see what effects it had, if any.

Here's hoping!