Trauma: Life in the POB

It’s Friday, June 4, 2010. It’s been raining and dreary, but today, the sun came to see me. I opted out on the treadmill this morning, but if I could go back and change the course of the day, I would definitely do the treadmill.
Around lunchtime, my two favorite kids, P and Izzy B, came by for a swim before heading over to spend the weekend with friends. Iz could hardly wait to get to that big water slide, but she stood patiently while the rest of us got ready to go. As soon as we arrived on the pool deck, she and I went straight to the slide. I have been down that slide a hundred times with no catastrophes; I’ve even done half of those slides holding a little one in front of me. How could I have known that today would be different?
The first go-around went off without a hitch. We landed safely at the bottom, and Iz said, “Let’s do it again, Gigi.” We climbed the stairs for the second slide. Iz often makes the rules and loves to give directions to everyone around her, so she instructed me to go first, then turn around to catch her. It sounded like a reasonable plan to me, so I jumped on and took off round and round the water slide. Sadly, while making that second turn, something went horribly wrong. I got turned around, sliding backwards on my stomach. Ordinarily, this would be no big deal, but because I was so close to the end of the slide, I had no time to get myself turned back around on my boo-tocks, facing forward. It’s is not a comfortable ride for an old woman going down a slide backwards, and not being able to brace for the point of impact…know what I’m sayin’?
I hit the water with a powerful force. Then, I hit the pool floor with my left knee cap. That wouldn’t have caused a problem, except that the “place” on the pool floor was a metal dome-shaped grate, positioned to suck the water out of the pool and back through the filter system.
My first thought…well, I can’t divulge my first thought because it is a very ugly string of explicatives. My second thought was to inhale deeply and holler: Ouch!. Unfortunately, that didn’t work out too well, either. So much water went up my nose, I think an ounce or two landed just inside my right frontal lobe! When I finally did reach air, I could hardly move, but I knew I needed to get out of the water. Fast.
I had no idea that I was missing the skin that covered my knee cap. My only concern was the burnin’ pain I felt underneath that missing skin. I got to the side of the pool, and thought to myself: “How in the hell am I going to get all the way over to my pool chair?” Brother Dan came over to find that the blood flow had started with a vengeance, so he went to the front desk to ask for a first-aid kit. I hobbled to my pool chair, bleeding like a banshee – everyone looking at me with disgust and asking: “Are you alright?”
I mean, I know folks were trying to be nice, but what were they thinking? I’m limping. I have blood pouring down my leg like a prop on a horror film, and folks ask me if I am alright? WTF….of course, I’m not alright. If I was alright, I’d be climbing the stairs with Iz for another go on the water slide!
It wasn’t long before little worker men came crawling out of the woodworks. Again, not so much out of genuine concern for me, but out of worry that I would seek legal retribution for pain and suffering. First, the little medic appeared with a first-aid kit that doubled as a fishing tackle box. I swear, my dad had one just like it when I was a kid.

Just moments before, my friend Amy had told me not to worry about sanitizing the wound, because I had just come from the chlorinated water. I just needed to get it dried and covered with antibiotic ointment. She’s a doctor – a large animal doctor – but still, I trusted her far more than the pool man who had put on his medic badge for the occasion.
He slipped on his plastic gloves to look real professional, and even managed to make that loud pop against his wrist, as he slipped on that second glove. A regular surgeon!
He mumbled something about peroxide and my eyes got as big around as one of Amy’s large animal patients!! Visions of liquid bandaid (from last summer) just about blurred my vision.
I said: “Look man, I just got out of that chlorine water. I don’t need disinfectant right now. I need you to help me dry this off, stop the bleeding, and put antibiotic ointment on it.” The pool man with a medic badge replied: “Yeah. We treat this water every, single day.”…..I knew he was a pool man!!
Anyway, my instruction sounded rather impressive, didn’t it? Thanks, Amy 
Next, came the maintenance man. First of all, he told me that the same thing had happened to another last week. I thought medic badge was going to punch his three remaining teeth, right out o’ his mouth! Then, maintenance man asked me ten dozen questions. (Like he thought he was being subtle.) Eventually, I grew tired of it.
“Look man, there isn’t a drop of blood in your pool. Not a drop. It may be all over your pool deck and all over this lounge chair, but you won’t find any in the water. I know because I got my fat ass out of that pool too fast to bleed in your water.” He didn’t ask any more questions. A little while later, I saw him on the far side of the pool. He had his little test kit. I suppose he was checking for contaminated water.
Next up came the Brett Robinson Realty Manager. You know the one who’s wearing khaki pants and a dress shirt on the pool deck. The one who rarely comes outside unless he’s trying to do damage control? Well, Mr. Damage Control came to see me, too. Maintenance man had just tested my patience, so DC was at a definite disadvantage. We exchanged nicey-nicies, and he told me to call him if I needed anything at all. I mumbled under my breath “uh-huh” with the exact same conviction I had the day in 92 when Clinton told the American public that he didn’t inhale.
Medic man fixed me right up and even put an ice pack on it for me. I only thought about boppin’ him once when he pressed down too hard with that wad of gauze. I’m so scared that this little injury is going to slow down my beach activities. It’ll be a while before I can put on my dancin’ shoes again…not to mention that wooden slat floor in the lighthouse. Ugh!!!