A broken hip

Jean accompanying grandson, Gabe Sehnert and Kassidy Michaelis at a recent concert at Brookdale in McCook.

Courtesy photo

Note: Recently I had the misfortune to suffer a broken hip. I never realized how helpless a broken limb, like a hip, can make a person. In the past when I heard of someone who suffered this fate I felt sorry for that person, but never realized all that he or she was going through in pain, discomfort, and restrictions of more activities than I ever imagined. From now, I resolve to be more compassionate, and truly sorry for that person’s injury and suffering. For those of you who have been spared an injury of this type, I urge you to observe that old adage, “Pride goeth before a fall.” Don’t be reluctant to use a cane or walker if you feel the least bit insecure. Don’t break your hip! What follows is the story of my wife, Jean’s broken hip, which happened some years ago..

When our daughter, Susan, called, her voice was filled with excitement. Her husband, Jim, had been invited to speak at a bankers’ meeting in Cancun, Mexico, and she felt that Jean, and I should tag along, and make a little vacation out of the trip.

I wasn’t hard to convince. Mexico has been one of my favorite vacation destinations for many years, with its wealth of archeological ruins, historic colonial cities, beautiful beaches, and happy music. I’m always anxious to make another trip. And since we would be in Cancun, at the Yucatan Peninsula, I looked forward to introducing my grandchildren to the ruins at Chichen Itza, which are nearby.

Since Jean and I had made our reservations late, we were unable to stay at Susan’s hotel, but were lucky to find a nice hotel only a mile away. About noon we checked into our quarters, then left immediately to be with the rest of the family at their hotel. The day and evening were a delight, with dips in the clear blue waters, parasailing over the Gulf, and sampling wonderful meals in the hotel’s dining room.

Later in the evening, when it was time to return to our hotel we boarded a bus at the front door. But the bus did not deliver us to the front door of our hotel. Instead we stopped along the highway, a long hike from the hotel.

The stop was poorly lighted and when I stepped off the bus I stumbled over a section of broken concrete. As I recovered my balance and turned to help Jean, she was already on her way down. She was thrown off balance by the broken concrete and she fell in a heap along the side of the road.

The bus driver, seeing what had happened, came running to our aid, and together, we got Jean to her feet.

“Ah, good, she’s OK”, the driver said, and quickly jumped back on the bus and sped away, leaving us standing by the side of the road.

But Jean was not OK. As soon as she attempted a step she screamed with pain. “There is something radically wrong,” she sobbed. “I can’t walk at all”.

We were in a real dilemma. I dared not leave her while I went for help, yet I could not support her by myself enough to get her up that long driveway to our hotel. It was very dark, and there was no traffic at all. For a long few minutes we just stood there, trying to come up with a plan.

Then in the distance we saw the lights of a car, and as it came closer I could see the light on the roof, identifying the car as a taxi. I waved frantically. The driver stopped. We were extremely fortunate that his cab was empty. He knew the region well, and he spoke some English. Together we lifted Jean into the back seat of the cab, and the driver raced off to Cancun’s hospital, the finest (and only) hospital in the area.

At the hospital the attendants placed Jean in a wheelchair--- against her wishes. The cab driver explained to the staff, in Spanish, what had happened. A doctor appeared and had her taken immediately to the x-ray room, where it was determined that she had broken her hip. Then for a long time, she was left on the x-ray table, while people consulted, excitedly, in little groups, always in Spanish. No one spoke English.

Finally, a man from Alabama, who had taken his wife to the hospital for an allergy shot, came into the hallway where I was trying to explain to the doctor just who we were and what had happened. The Alabaman sensed my problem, and since he spoke good Spanish, he proceeded to act in my behalf with the doctor. He translated for me and the taxi driver left. (But that compassionate cab driver came back two more times during the night to see how Jean was doing and asked if there was anything more he could do.)

The Alabaman turned out to be a real blessing for us. He communicated with the doctors, then translated to me what was being said. I learned that the doctor was a real prima donna. He was almost flippant. He pointed out that Jean had a broken hip, no big deal---to him. And he was prepared to do the hip replacement himself, as soon as an assistant doctor, whom he had called, could get to the hospital.

From what I’d seen of the doctor and the facilities at the hospital, I didn’t think I’d like the operation done there, certainly without getting a second opinion. When my new friend conveyed that message, the doctor became crimson, turned on his heel and refused to talk with me any longer.

Soon after the doctor left I was able to contact Susan and Jim, who immediately got in touch with the Surgical team at Bryon Hospital in Lincoln. Their advice was to get Jean to Lincoln as soon as possible. They would attend to her there. Then the Lincoln team contacted a rescue service in Florida, which dispatched a Jet Ambulance to Cancun.

In the meantime, the Mexican attendants came with a wheel chair to take Jean from x-ray, to a private room on the second floor of the hospital. She and I both protested, trying to make them understand that we didn’t think a person with a broken hip should be placed in a wheelchair, and that they should transport her on a stretcher. They showed us, by gesture, that the elevator was too small for a stretcher (it was barely big enough for a wheelchair and one other person). So again, Jean had to endure a ride in a wheelchair. Upstairs, the nurses tried to make her as comfortable as possible. When she asked how to call a nurse they pointed to the telephone, across the room from her bed--- impossible for her to reach, even if she had been able to speak in Spanish.

The nurses agreed that I should stay in the room with Jean during the night. They provided me with a cot by her bedside, but as I lay down the cot collapsed, and I went sprawling on the floor. Jean laughed in spite of her pain.

By noon the Jet Ambulance arrived, with a competent, take-charge, male nurse. He was appalled at the wheelchair and tiny elevator. Instead he insisted that Jean be strapped to a stretcher. They would carry her down. The open stairway, on the outside of the building was narrow, with no side rails, and Jean’s stretcher was tipped and extended crazily out into space on the sharp turns. I could only hold my breath and pray.

The ride back to Lincoln in the Jet Ambulance was made quickly and without incident. We made just one stop, in Houston, to clear customs. Jean was heavily sedated and relatively comfortable. In Lincoln, the Bryon hospital’s ambulance blared its siren on the way to the hospital, and we sailed through the rush hour traffic in record time.

The surgeon on duty at the hospital was just finishing up a long day of operations when we arrived. The surgical must have been alerted to our coming, but evidently there had been a communications mix up. The surgeon was just removing his surgical gown as Jean was being wheeled into the operating area. He looked very weary, and surprised as he turned to her, “Where the hell did she come from?” he asked to no one in particular. Then with a sigh he picked up another gown and prepared to go back to work.

The operation was completed without trouble. The recovery and rehabilitation went well, and Jean was able to resume her active schedule. Later, we were told of the risk of possible blood clots when moving a person with a broken limb, and knowing the misunderstandings that can and do occur when trying to communicate in a foreign language, we felt very blessed that things turned out as they did. But we also resolved, in the future, to make every effort to stay out of hospitals when traveling in a foreign land.