Preview II - Rollercoaster Ride

Doing Things His Way

Chapter Six

September 20

Today, thirty days after his accident, I arrived at the hospital and was told by his nurse that Larry had gotten out of bed and walked to the bathroom. He was not supposed to bear weight on one leg for eight weeks and on the other for twelve weeks. In his right leg he has a pin from his knee to his ankle running down the centre of his tibia and held in place with screws. In his left leg he has a plate holding his femur together with screws attaching the plate to the bone and screws holding the pieces of bone together in his knee.

"You know Larry," the nurse patiently explained, "you could injure yourself and end up having to spend more time in the hospital than you may otherwise have to. If you rebreak your leg you'll be back at square one again. The bone has to heal around the plate."

Larry agreed that he didn't want to be in the hospital longer than he had to be. I thought that was the end of the matter and presumably so did the nurses.

A few days later Larry was again caught walking down the hall with his bare butt hanging out of the back of his night shirt. This is the same man who was too embarrassed to be seen wearing shorts in the summer because he thought his legs were too thin. The nurse again said, "If the bone isn't given a chance to heal around the plate and the rod, it will require another operation. You're doing yourself damage."

But Larry is convinced that he can walk and insists he can go to the bathroom on his own. He doesn't listen to the nurses, the doctor or to me. "We'll just negotiate the time I have to stay off my leg," he told me.

"Larry," I said with a fair amount of exasperation, "some things can be negotiated but the healing of bones is not one of them; you'll just have to accept it. The healing process can't be hurried but it can be hindered and it definitelty can't be negotiated."

"Everything can be negotiated," he told me angrily.

They sent him for x-rays and decided that, as yet, he hadn't done any extensive damage. After his last escapade they put a monitor on his bed so that if he tries for another adventure, it will alert them. He was extremelty angry about the monitor.

"I wasn't walking in the hall," he later told me belligerently. "I was up on the roof and no one said anything about that. I spent the night up there and then they left me sitting in a wheelchair all morning. I met Todd at the railway station too and no one worried about that either."

He was becoming an increasingly difficult patient. One of the nurses told me it was for this reason that he wouldn't be going home because of how difficult he would be for me to handle. "You're wrecking it for yourself," I told him. "If you don't listen and do as you're told, you'll be staying in here a lot longer."

His only answer was an angry glare.