My name is Phil, I am 22, and I have a broken leg. I broke it jumping off my own porch, during finals of my senior year in college. Jumping off a porch? Seriously?? Yes, seriously. I can't tell you exactly how it happened, well, because I can't actually remember it. I was D-Runk. But to be honest, if your going to injure yourself, doing it while blacked out is the way to go. I am told I was in considerable pain, yelling and unable to walk myself back into my room, but I don't remember one second of that shit. All I remember is my friends standing over me asking, "Are you suuuure we don't have to take you to the hospital?" "haha, nahh, I'm good, seriously guys, don't worry". Well, the pain caught up with me, at about 5 am that morning when I woke up to go to the bathroom. I don't remember waking up specifically, but I do remember rolling around in my bed and crying my eyes out because I was unable to get up and walk. I grabbed my phone, called 911, and in no time I was off to the hospital.
Waking your parents at 6 am on a sunday to tell them you broke your leg is tough. Not being able to tell them exactly how you did it is even worse. The severity of the injury was unclear at the time, and so I left the hospital with no real answers and no idea of what the future would hold. For the next week, I shacked up on my friend's couch and had friends wait on me hand and foot. It was pretty sweet, originally, and besides the pain, I was having a great time. I got excused from final papers, got extensions for others and basically watched dexter on demand all day. Pros included no work, lots of drugs, and all day tv (nhl playoffs baby!). Cons included not being able to do shit, a messed up digestive system (because of all those damn drugs!) and no privacy to pleasure myself.
My friends were great. They helped me out with everything from driving me to doctors to finding me drugs. We were having a blast until finals ended, and everyone went to Myrtle Beach, leaving me to fend for myself in the ghost town that our school became. I ordered mad delivery, watched more dexter and attempted not to fall down on the death-trap staircase I was forced to tread every time I wanted food or water. Luckily, after a couple days of isolation, my girlfriend Courtney came to nurse me back to health.
The first two weeks of the break were pretty brutal. Although I had enjoyed the slave-holding lifestyle, I was still pretty pissed about making such a stupid decision. My friends being gone made me realize that I was missing a lot of fun, and although I had extensions, I still had to do some school work while immobilized.
So that's it for Broken-Leg Blog #1. I know the back story is a bit boring, but please come back, next time I'll cover the surgery, the hospital overnight, and graduation, where I get to shake the hand of General Colin Powell. Until then, I leave you with this haiku explaining the difficulties of dumping while on oxycodone...
Digestive system
Giving birth to a pet rock
Once every ten days.
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