Let me see...I was given a horse that had a wee bit of a problem. BOY was he pretty. And I just LOVED HIM!
He broke all my ribs on one side and crushed my hand, bucked me off and then stomped all over my hand and my torso. Got a pretty severe concussion too. People didn't wear helmets in those days.
Oh, you know what? I hear some people don't wear helmets to ride even today. Well, as the doctor said, I was lucky I wasn't dead or paralyzed.
I was told I'd never use my hand again. The surgeon just wrapped it up and said, 'There! Now it will heal in a 'position of fuction''. I asked what that meant, and he said, 'Well, if you have no use of it, it will still look sort of...well...'natural', you know'.
Of course a couple months later when they took off all that wrapping, it looked - not natural. It looked like a tiny white claw. After a couple years of very painful physical therapy, I got some use of it. Of course, I was an art student, and the hand I broke was the hand I painted and drew with. So that was a pretty bad problem.
The ribs- I got what's called 'flail chest', where, you know, you break so many ribs, your lungs can't work and your chest wall destabilizes, and instead of going in and out, your lungs just keep blowing up with air, til it makes your heart stop beating.
One of the guys at the barn tied a jacket around my chest to try and keep the lungs from blowin out more, and laid me on the 'busted up' side in his car (that's supposed to help, I guess he learned that in army training, he was in a war, you don't usually see injuries like that otherwise), and drove the 25 miles to the hospital, going about 120 miles an hour, and going through every stop sign and light, hitting the car horn really hard.
Then I got to the hospital, and the doctor started putting the needles in my hand, which makes a BIG huge puddle of blood on the emergency operating room floor, but by then my dad was there, and he kept trying to turn my head away so I wouldn't see it, but by then I had 3 doses of morphine in me....but the hand was so busted up he couldn't set any of the fractures or dislocations, so he just kind of wrapped it up and said, 'OK!' And I remember thinking, 'wow, that one finger is almost completely off, I wonder why he doesn't like, stitch it back on or anything?'
Any other questions?