Two Waves Forward, One Hop Back

As a native Californian, I’ve always been a fan of water, wind, and waves, which is why I jumped at the chance for a surf camp vacation in Costa Rica over Memorial Day weekend.  A few, similarly-minded girlfriends were excited to surf, as well, so we packed our bags and headed to Jaco.

Costa Rica greeted us with bright sunshine when we arrived Saturday afternoon.  On our drive from the airport to Jaco Beach, we crossed over alligator bridge, viewed scarlet macaws swirling above, and observed plenty of pedestrians shopping at street-side fruit stands. 

Upon arriving 1 ½ hours later to the Hotel Club del Mar, we ate a delicious, classical Costa Rican lunch of grilled fish, plantains, rice & beans, and salad.  Bellies full, we settled into our suites to unpack, then strolled along the beach and dipped our toes in the smooth, silky black sand.  The air was warm, and the cool breeze grazing our cheeks delightful.

I'm wearing the red,white, and blue dress.

The next morning we spent a few, early hours stand up paddleboarding (SUP), which was a total trip!  Despite the growing waves, I did my best to stay on my feet and paddle through the wake, figuring it would be good practice for surfing that afternoon.  With a few hours of SUPing and balancing under our belt, we settled in to relax poolside until it was time to gear up for our late afternoon surf lesson.

Le sigh.

At 3:30pm, our highly anticipated afternoon of surf camping arrived.  Yes!  We learned how to drag our feet through the sand to avoid stingrays, when to paddle out to a wave, pop up on the board at our instructor’s command, and discussed the best methods of dismounting our boards in the water.  After taking a few turns practicing techniques on the shore, we filed out to the ocean.

I was first up.  I’m not certain, but I think the wave coming in was roughly two or three feet.  A decent measure for my first, right?  My instructor positioned the board, then I popped up on cue.  Wooooooweeeee!  I’m really up!  Standing!  I was stoked and exhilarated having rode my very first wave in!  As I approached shore, I opted to fall backward and swim back to my board then out to the waves to start again.  Weee!  I paddled to the surf and readied for another wave.  On cue, I popped back up and rode another wave, this time all the way to the shore.   Yes!  Two for two.  I’m a bona fide surfer now!

[This is where I’d insert a picture of my professional surfing shot,
but I didn’t progress to that level.  This time.]

When the wave completed its run, I hopped off the board into the sand and immediately spun around to grab the board and swim out for another round.  However, instead of spinning on my heel,  I heard a series of crackling in my lower right leg and tumbled to the ground.  Turns out, my foot remained stuck in that silky smooth, incredibly compact sand, so when I quickly whirled around to grab the board, the bones in my lower leg snapped.

Suffice it to say, I was in pain.  And I needed assistance getting outta that agua.  We learned in our lesson that waving our hands in the air was the universal sign for help, so I waved my hands in the air (in a way to show that I cared).  Only thing is, I my instructor started smiling and beckoning me back to the tide.  Perhaps because he thought that I was such a natural wave rider, I must be signaling victory to emphasize my newly minted surfing prowess, my instructor didn’t register [what I thought was] my universal message for help.

Alas, he finally realized that I was signaling for help, swam in, and I was carried off the beach.  Shortly thereafter, I was transported to the local health clinic, two miles away where I would take x-rays to assess the severity of the break.  If the fracture was severe, I was warned that a trip to the nearest hospital – two hours away – would be necessary.  [What did I just get myself into!?]

The clinic nurse loaded me up on pain meds (praise God!) and when the radiologist arrived, we took the x-rays.  Yup.  The bones were clearly broken.  I didn’t doubt it one minute b/c I felt and heard them bad boys crack, (almost like the sound of the DC thunderstorm clapping on Friday).  Yes.  That loud.  It was so weird.

Spiral fractures of the tibia (near my shin) 
and fibula (up near the knee).

Photo courtesy of Maddie.

The clinic doctor broke the bad news (pun totally intended) – my fracture was severe enough to warrant surgery, which could only be done in San Jose, roughly two hours away.  My initial thought was, I have no idea if my insurance covers international accidents acquired while hokey pokey-ing in the sand, so let’s all pile into a cab and save a few bucks instead of riding in an ambulance.  But, no.  My “penny” saving plan (read: a two hour ambulance ride in CR will cost you $1,500) was thwarted.   Because of the severity of the break, the doctor insisted that an ambulance was necessary to ensure my leg remained as secure as possible. 

Thus, we all piled into the ambulance, though that took a little negotiation.  When I asked the doctor if the girls could come with me, she said there was room for two.   “Por favor, doctor,” I pleaded in spanglish, “They’re all petite!  Three for the price of two!”  [Scene cut: The girls sat in the back with me, the doctor up front with the driver.]

Waves of emotions (yes, that pun, too) were rushing through my mind as I heard my mom’s voice, “You need to be more careful, Janelle.  Why are you doing all this risky stuff?!”  At that moment, I wasn’t consumed with the pain experienced from the break, but the heartache and worry that I knew would plague mom.   I started to think through talking points for my eventual conversation with her (finally settled on, “I promise to be more careful in the future.”) and brainstorm non-threatening, low impact activities to share with her for the next Mother’s Day (like watching American Idol or SYTYCD, although, in her house, things can get a little rowdy when these shows are viewed). 

After a blaring siren sped us through the Costa Rican Sunday night traffic, we finally arrived at the hospital, where I was whisked to the ER and the nurse immediately descended upon me to juice me up with more pain killers (oh, the Lord is kind and merciful b/c the pain was fairly excruciating).  While the  nurse went fishing for a good vein (mine are hard to find and roll once located), an unidentified, swarthy gentleman wearing a polo shirt, jeans, and flip flops strolled into my curtained cubby.  He asked me how I was doing, to which I responded, “Not good as I broke my leg.”  “Yes, I see that,” he replied.  “We’re going to fix that for you.”  (OK.  So he must be the ortho?!)

Confirmed.  Said swarthy gent was the orthopedic surgeon who informed me that he will operate on me and insert a nail in the tibia to stabilize the bone.  It’s a routine surgery, one that he’s performed numerous times, and will take two hours.  I like the sound of that.  Stabilize bone.  Check.  Routine surgery.  Check.  Doc has done this multiple times before.  Check.  Short time under.  Check.

As my surgery was scheduled for 11pm, I was sent to pre-op purgatory (thankfully, with the girls), and waited what felt like an eternity, but was only two hours or so.  Nevertheless, all I could think was, “Gimme the drogas and let’s get this show on the road!”

Fast forward to the next afternoon.  I’m in my private hospital room where the girls (heart you, chicas!) were waiting with me for a follow-up visit from Dr. Swarthy.  He glides into the room around 5pm with a grin on his face and twinkle in his eye.  Dr. S indicates my surgery went smoothly and unfolds the post-surgery x-ray, which spans four panels and reveals not a nail, but a rod, inserted through the length of the tibia.  #translationfailredux 

What do you think?  Do you see a nail or rod?

Thanks for another x-ray photo, Maddie.

So, my friends, I have a rod stabilizing my bone, and four screws anchoring the rod to the bone.  For a girl who needed surgery in a developing country,  I’m thankful that Costa Rica is known for medical tourism (ie many people will fly to CR for medical procedures at a lower price).  Coulda been worse, right?  There’s a catch though…my bone wasn’t set perfectly.  Instead of aligning the tibia back to its original position, the lower part of my tibia and foot is rotated roughly 10-15 degrees out.  After days of debate, I’m hopeful that the three orthopedic surgeons I consulted with in DC will be correct when they surmise that I will be able to regain an active lifestyle upon healing.  #prayerrequestplease

That said, I’m so thankful for the friends, family, and even strangers, who helped me upon my return to DC.  While I was still in Costa Rica, tremendously thoughtful friends sent around a sign-up sheet to help bring meals, provide rides, do chores, run errands, and keep me company.  The sheet, which covered three weeks of time, was filled within two days!  (<3 <3 <3)  Delicious meals, friendly sweat equity, lively conversations, and a healthy dose of flowers, cards, and balloons filled my condo every day for a month.  What more could a girl ask for…other than a non-broken leg!?!?!  =/

 

Despite the challenge of being mobility impaired and wearing a cast in the sweltering heat, I’ve learned that these crutches aren’t so bad after all.  They’ve actually become quite handy.

Who needs a swiffer when you can use a crutch to clean the floor?!?!?
Thanks for the photo, CK!

Crutches serve as very adequate pointers.
Thanks for this photo of LLiu hard at work, Ruvvies!

Although I’ve been banned from driving (and standing, walking, etc) for the past five weeks, there are a few perks I didn’t think about when my leg first broke.  I’m able to use the motorized carts at Safeway and Target, ride the Metro Access van (offering Supershuttle-like door-to-door transport at a subsidized rate), rest more (surprisingly so!), and gain a greater sensitivity to issues affecting mobility-challenged,  able-bodied individuals.

Thanks for the Safeway photo, Shmooks.

This Target aisle was not ADA compliant!

Thanks for the photo, Patty. 

Another photo Ruvvies snapped as I boarded the van.

Good news is, this morning I saw the ortho and graduated from cast to walking boot.  Woo hoo!  

This transition is a sign that:
1) my tibia has been healing
2) physical therapy can start asap to increase strength and dexterity
3) I can start putting pressure (50% of my body weight) on my leg for two weeks
4) after two weeks, start putting 100% pressure on my leg (aka…walk!)
5) Bathe my crusty leg (yay for all!!)

Freedom!

The process has been simultaneously traumatizing and humbling.  I've thought about, prayed, and shed plenty of tears through this whole ordeal, and realize that I'll just have a [slightly] crooked leg...unless the doctors believe my skewed leg results in too much pain, discomfort, or complication.  On the upside, I’m definitely learning how to ask for (and accept) help and confirming how incredible my friends and family are to rally around my needs and safety without a blink of an eye.   

Lastly, and most importantly, the good Lord is using this experience to remind me how important it is to rest in Him and let Him do what He does best.

Exhibit A: Evidence of my resting. 

Thanks for taking the recent journey of my ‘lil right leg (I think it shrank something like 25% in five weeks). One day, I hope to return to Costa Rica to finish this vacation with the girls and catch a few more waves…without a break.   #anotheroccasiontopraywithme

Thanks for the photo, Kitty Cat.

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Psalm 121 – My Help Comes from the Lord

I lift up my eyes to the hills.
From where does my help come?
My help comes from the Lord,
who made heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot be moved;
he who keeps you will not slumber.

Behold, he who keeps Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord is your keeper;
the Lord is your shade on your right hand.

The sun shall not strike you by day,
nor the moon by night.

The Lord will keep you from all evil;
he will keep your life.

The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in
from this time forth and forevermore.