Heavy Metal Without The Noise

(This post started as my “eight random facts about myself” entry, but, as I was doing the list, I realized that I was expounding too much on the first one that I couldn’t think of seven other facts that has relatively the same “whoa” factor, so I discerned that the other seven facts can wait.)

I have titanium in my right leg. I have a huge scar to prove it, and the metal part of the leg can actually be felt if touched. It has been there (here?) since summer of 1998. So here’s the story: I was on my way down our flight of stairs, holding a baby, when suddenly I slipped on the last step. Automatically, I clutched the child closer to me, so my hands weren’t free to support myself. My whole weight were upon my right leg, which, unknown to us, gave way. There was pain. A lot of it. (The baby’s safe, by the way)

People in our house thought that my leg was just swollen, so we didn’t bother going to the orthopedic hospital until two days after, when I still couldn’t walk. The x-ray affirmed the pain: there was a fracture, and I fell apart that instant (no pun intended). Immobility scared me, and it had to begin immediately. My lower right limb – meaning the leg and thigh – was subject to casting. The cast was heavy of course. I needed help to be transported. My right knee couldn’t be bent, and any itching, even of the mildest degree, signalled disaster. The effect of being stuck in one place was obvious. After some days, I could already reach my knee, because I was getting thin and the cast is becoming too large for my thigh. Which is good, scratching-wise.

We had to wait two weeks (I think) before we return to the hospital, hoping that the fractured bones will re-fuse. (Removing casts is fun, with chainsaw-like apparatus to tear it apart). Apparently, what held the bones together for a time was the swelling, which is already gone by then, and the bones were even in a worse condition. Casting alone couldn’t do the trick. A surgery had to take place, and metal has to be put in place (After the check-up, the new cast was only knee high, probably as a consolation). Days after, I was admitted at the orthopedic ward of a public hospital. This immersion of sorts somehow opened me to the realities of life (which deserves a future article also).

My operation day was the exact day of our enrolment in Pisay. I was rolled into the operating room early in the morning after injecting sedating chemicals through my shoulder. I never liked injections up to the present. So imagine the horror of injection – through my spine. Thrice. It was the most painful sensation that I have ever felt. I had to lie in a fetal position so that the needle will find it easier to find that unlucky spot. But I’m just human: I uncoil the moment I feel the syringe, and the nurse will scold me, “Ayan! Nabali na naman yung karayom!” I needed three shots. They gave me six, counting the unsuccessful tries. Six. Three was already a lot. But I had six. It took some time before I was put to sleep by the earlier sleep-inducing shots.

Waking up in the recovery room was a relief: wow, the task was already finished, although the anaesthesia was slowly running thin. I was soon wheeled back in my ward bed. Days after, the orthopedic doctors made their rounds, and they showed me the film of my new and improved limb: titanium occupied considerable space there. They said that removing the metal (after the bones fused) was optional. Hmmm. I hope they were correct, for I haven’t had it removed until now. Besides, spine injection is not my thing.

I had to miss the first fifteen days of school to recover from the surgery, and when I came back, I was sporting crutches (I practiced at home for this). And I needed help going up or down the stairs, or moving from building to building. Late classmates would walk with me so they wouldn’t be scolded by our teacher since they “accompanied” me transferring from one room to another. For a time, I was being referred to as “yung napilay.” Oddly, there were about three or four more students in a span of four months that utilized crutches as well. Somehow I started an accident trend. Soon, the ramp in Pisay’s back lobby was constructed, and I claim that it’s because of me.

I can walk again without crutches by August. There was extra caution on my part since then. I never had a lot of physical activity before the accident, and there was even less after the recovery. Slowly, I was thinking of my metal leg less and less. Which should be, I think.

Probably the weirdest metal-related event occurred when I was in college already. The LRT Purple Line (running from Santolan to Recto) was newly open, though it was running until Cubao only, and my classmate and I was too eager to try it. A few people knew that the train’s already operational, so there were more security guards than commuters. As the mandatory check-up was going on, the metal detector emitted noise while it was on me. The guard asked me to remove my shoe, but the same thing happened. He was now asking me to pull my pants up, and only then did I remember about my titanium; it never beeped before in the malls. Perhaps security was using cutting-edge technology to foil terroristic acts. Everyone had a good laugh.

There were times that I wished the accident never happened to me (but of course; who would want such a thing). All the wasted time, the financial aspect, and the physical pain was just too much to bear. But after going through the whole process, aside from an extra piece of sturdy solid, I gained a lot of life experiences, constantly reminded by this (life) long scar.