11 Trip to the Clinic
I was loaded into the back of a small truck, the back covered by a fiberglass shell. We then proceeded to lurch over the regularly spaced speed bumps, and seemingly hit every pothole in between. Only later did I realize that the driver, a Mario Andretti wannabe, was the same fellow who had reassured me he wouldn’t bang my foot.
The trip continued with a series of brutally long turns, hard stops, followed by relentless acceleration and braking in the ensuing trip to the local clinic. The pain and agony I felt during that trip way surpassed the pain I had felt up to that point.
As we pulled up to the clinic, I heaved a sigh of relief, thankful that the ride was over.
I was therefore dismayed when the doctors came out to the truck in which I was sprawled, took a look at my pulsating and bleeding leg, and explained that they just didn’t have the practical know-how or facilities to handle a break of this type.
The trip continued with a series of brutally long turns, hard stops, followed by relentless acceleration and braking in the ensuing trip to the local clinic. The pain and agony I felt during that trip way surpassed the pain I had felt up to that point.
As we pulled up to the clinic, I heaved a sigh of relief, thankful that the ride was over.
I was therefore dismayed when the doctors came out to the truck in which I was sprawled, took a look at my pulsating and bleeding leg, and explained that they just didn’t have the practical know-how or facilities to handle a break of this type.
Labels: broken leg;
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