Fractured Ankle - Fractured Ego

Fractured Ankle – Fractured Ego

This story is true. Not even the names have been changed to protect the innocent. For nearly twenty years we lived in a neighborhood called Crossgates. Our house had a gigantic back yard with gigantic trees. The two main oak trees blanketed a large portion of the yard in shade. Some of the yard was not suitable for grass, due to the excessive shade. This was the area closest to the house. I build decking over this entire area, in several levels. I built a goldfish pond and installed the walnut porch swing, beyond the decks and facing the house. The brick patio was very large. There was a natural gas barbeque grill. There was a six foot board fence on two sides of the yard. There was a chain link fence, with tight shrubbery, on the left side. This fence divided our back yard from the neighbor who owned the evil dog from hell.

Don’t get me wrong. We love dogs. We have always loved dogs. We have owned four serious attack dogs. There was a miniature Poodle named Beau Jangles. There was a small Poodle-mut mixture named Patches. There was a Peekapoo named Buffy. And finally there was Sassy, a Shih-Tzu. We have always loved dogs.

But let me tell you about the evil dog from hell. We just called it the “rat-rat dog”. This does not refer to rodents. This refers to eternal, irritating barking. The family had two other dogs. These were reasonably friendly and intelligent. Not so, the “rat-rat dog”! He was small and ugly, a duke’s mixture. He always…let me repeat…he always barked at us through the fence. But he wasn’t just barking. He was charging the fence with a mixture of fear and aggression. If he was in the back yard for five minutes, he spent the whole five minutes with this exasperating conduct. If he was in the back yard for an hour, he continually charged the fence with the barking. We hated the “rat-rat dog”.

It was autumn. Every year I raked millions of leaves. This is the price for having giant, gorgeous trees in the yard. I didn’t mind. To enjoy raking leaves, one must wait until he is in the mood. He must have his own comfortable technique. Mine was simple. I began at the edge. I raked until I had a sizable pile of leaves, then I got a giant leaf bag, filled it with leaves and tied it off. Then I proceeded with raking until I had a second bag, and so on. In this way, I was never overwhelmed with a huge pile of leaves. I was always just a couple minutes away from being able to quit and leave the project until later.

So it was, on that fateful evening. I had been raking leaves. I had maybe five giant bags full, waiting to be taken down to the street. As darkness descended, I just left the bags and went inside to watch Mississippi State in a championship basketball game. I had left one bag half full, and still open. The score was tied. There was a time-out. I popped out into the back yard to finish that last bag and tie it off.

You guessed it. The “rat-rat dog” was in his back yard. As soon as I appeared, he began his incessant evil barking and charging the fence. I decided to take action against this evil dog. I decided to turn and suddenly and charge the fence, and shout right into his face! This would startle and terrify him. Of course it wouldn’t make any difference in his conduct. But at least I would have the marvelous satisfaction of the moment. And I would give him something to fear…and a valid reason to bark incessantly, like a fool. Now get the picture in mind. I am on a slight rise. The yard slopes gently down toward the fence where the “rat-rat dog” is insanely yapping at me. The lawn is covered with leaves, where I had not yet raked. Oak leaves on the ground are pretty slick. You’re getting the picture.

I paused and pictured my attack. I was ready. Suddenly I dropped the rake to the ground. At the same time I spun around and charged the fence with all speed and force within me. At the same time I slipped and fell hard! That’s the time I heard an ominous crack in my right ankle, and felt pain shooting up my lower leg. The “rat-rat dog” was yapping with renewed fear and aggression. But now I only heard him vaguely, through a haze of pain. I knew there was some serious damage below. I reached down and felt the damage. I felt a large knot on my ankle.

What to do, what to do? I could scream. But it was some distance back to the house, and the door was closed. (and the “rat-rat dog” was barking wildly.) I could wait until Margery came out to see where I was. But this could take hours. I was always in and out of the house. She wouldn’t be concerned. And anyway, she was a more avid sports fan than I. Or I could crawl. This third option seemed to be the best. I began to crawl toward the patio. This took some time, and it hurt. At length I reached the brick patio, and managed to stand up. I hopped toward the back door. Then I was in the soft light coming through the window. I chose this moment to glance down…bad mistake! My right foot was turned squarely to the right. I’m serious! It was. Now was the time for me to feel like fainting.

What to do, what to do? I didn’t want Margery to faint or have a heart attack on the spot. But I needed to get to the emergency room. I opened the door, and stuck my left leg and shoulder inside. She was lying on the couch watching the big game. I said, “Honey, I’ve hurt my foot, and we need to go to the emergency room.” I was relieved to see her get up and immediately go back to our bedroom to get her coat. I hopped over to the garage door, and managed to be sitting in the car when she came out. She sat down in the car. This was a good time to show her the foot. She took it much better than I had expected.

Off to the emergency room. Happily it was only a few blocks away. Now I’m on the hospital bed. Now I have had a shot for pain. After the initial assessment they call the orthopedic doctor. He doesn’t come. He’s home watching the championship basketball game. By chance there was another orthopedic doctor passing by. By chance he was one of the premier joint doctors in the area. He was with Mississippi Sports Medicine. He did a lot of surgery for athletic injuries. He said, “Have you had a shot for pain?” I said “Yes”, and was going to say, “But I could use another one.” I never got the words out. He grasped my ankle and popped it back into place! I turned green! (I think.) I broke out in sweat, and began shaking like a leaf.

The next morning this doctor came in to chat with me before surgery. He said, “Mr. Buckner, I have learned that sometimes it is better to just do it, rather than to discuss it.” I said, “I agree! And thanks for not telling me, ‘Get ready, I’m going to pop your ankle back into place.’”

What do I tell my friends? What do I tell Margery? I’m willing to have an “un-heroic” injury. I’m certainly NOT willing to tell the story of how the “rat-rat dog” bested me and made a complete fool of me! So I just say I stepped in a hole, out there in the dark, and fell. Now I have a metal plate and screws in my right ankle. I expected to set off the alarm in airports, but this never happened. I guess the metal is designed so it avoids this inconvenience. The doctor told me that I wasn’t going to heal as quickly as I would have when I was young. He said to give it a year and a half to feel normal again. He said the metal plate would not cause any problem. I could leave it down there unless it bothered me. It didn’t. It is still down there.

Sure enough it took about eighteen months for my ankle to feel totally strong again. It took longer than that for me to admit what really happened! In time we moved. To my knowledge, the “rat-rat dog” lives on.