26/05/2026
Update Guess who’s still in Derby hospital. 🙃
First hour of camping and I was actually having a genuinely good pain day. I had rested beforehand, done all the sensible chronic pain preparation procedures, was feeling unusually human and was having fun doing circuits on a push pedal scooter with Alia. Unfortunately I then took a corner too fast and too wide hit a pothole and went spectacularly arse over tit. 😭
So my bank holiday weekend has been entirely spent in Royal Derby Hospital with a severely fractured distal fibula, whiplash, swelling that has doubled since the original photo, and a brand new appreciation for the “green whistle”. Good drug. 😳
Medical trauma also briefly raised its ugly head when doctors tried persuading me to let them put a cannula in my upper arm because the cannula in my preferred position appeared not to be working. I was extremely panicked because something felt “off” to me. Turns out I was right. Once they removed some of the sticky plaster they discovered the line had kinked. They untwisted it and suddenly it flowed beautifully. Funny that. 😒
To their credit, almost every member of staff handled things brilliantly after that. They understood that chronic pain sufferers often mask pain levels and they stayed proactive with pain relief rather than waiting for me to become distressed. They also came up with a novel, deeply unpleasant but very effective way to sedate me without disturbing the cannula. Liquid ketamine up the nose. 😭
I cannot adequately explain how brutal that felt going in. My brain immediately started comparing it to waterboarding torture, except thankfully much shorter. The sensation of liquid running down the back of my throat while trying not to choke was… memorable. But wow did it work.
Apparently while they manipulated my ankle, my beloved DIL T nearly fainted watching. Meanwhile I was off on a completely different journey. At various points people developed two heads, multiple eyes and occasionally several mouths. Strangely only one nose each. At one point the whole world became a deep reddish pink and I genuinely felt like I’d entered some kind of womb dimension. 😭
I have technically never been “high” before in a drug induced sense. Sleep deprivation and prescription medication hallucinations, yes. Plenty of times, especially the former. People who know me may remember that I once bought a dog while in one of those states. I am not naturally a dog person and yet somehow I now absolutely adore Tilly dog. 🐶
Yes, I wish none of this had happened. But I’m still choosing to acknowledge that the start of the day was genuinely fun and joyous. That matters too.
Unfortunately I’m now not allowed home after all because I cannot weight bear whatsoever and have to wait for a physio assessment before they can decide what mobility aids I can safely use. Apparently they cannot just hand me crutches and hope for the best. Which, fair enough given my track record with corners and speed. 😭
But the frustrating part is the constant drip feeding of information. Being told one thing and then having it changed later. I understand situations evolve, but I’d rather people just told me the realistic possibilities upfront, even if disappointing, because otherwise it chips away at trust.
Pain wise, things tipped over to the dark side tonight and I’m feeling really sick with it, but hopefully they’re getting on top of the regular medication schedule now. The nursing staff have generally been absolutely lovely. Even the CT woman was gracious enough to acknowledge and accept my points in the end, which I genuinely appreciated. 😅
Huge shout out to Derby Royal A&E, X-ray, Orthopaedics, the porters, auxiliary staff and Ward 206. The vast majority of people understood disability related medical trauma, respected informed consent, and helped me feel involved in decisions rather than railroaded through them. That makes an enormous difference when you are frightened, in agony and vulnerable.
Physio and OT have now assessed me and apparently I’m surprisingly good with a rotunda. 😅 Unfortunately Derby cannot allow me to take their equipment home because it belongs to their trust, so they’re trying to negotiate with my local services to see whether they can accept the assessment and sort equipment their end instead of repeating everything. Bank holiday timing is, unsurprisingly, making everything slower and more complicated.
The other issue is that transferring me back to my local hospital or safely home is proving quite complicated because I’m completely non weight bearing and currently unsafe to transfer conventionally. They’ve suggested I may need ambulance transport, but arranging that alongside equipment, local service coordination and physio recommendations is taking time. It’s one of those situations where the actual fracture is only part of the problem. The logistics of safely existing with it are the bigger challenge right now. 😭
Also, while we’re here, hospital bedpans are still clearly designed by a man who has never once asked a woman for feedback in his entire life. 😤💩
Hopefully home tomorrow. But after the amount of changing plans and drip fed information over the last couple of days, I’m trying not to get my hopes up too much until somebody actually wheels me out of the building. 😅
Image description:
Sarah lying on a hospital trolley in Royal Derby Hospital after breaking her ankle. One leg is heavily bandaged and elevated while she uses the “green whistle” pain relief inhaler. Which was very effective. Despite the injury and hospital setting, she is pulling an exaggerated amused expression at the camera.
