Half the battle is NOT getting there.

They should post a sign over any hospital door:

Your heart and dignity will be removed as soon as possible, please just get over it.

Well, after standing around with the corn fed boys of the rural fire brigade for 20 minutes or so (they were expecting to haul the skid loader out of the ditch, but my husband foiled that...) the ambulance finally showed up.

Now we live on the county line, so they wanted to take my husband to the rural hospital in the county we live in instead of the city hospital in the more metropolitan area where they have state-of-the-art care available. Sensing that this was no run of the mill broken leg, I did what any self-respecting woman would do in a moment of extreme stress.

I threw a hissy fit. Tears and all.

Eventually they agreed to take him to the city hospital. They didn't even look at my husband's leg, they just took his vitals and put him in. I even got to the hospital BEFORE the ambulance.

Now, I forgot to mention that exactly one week before this event, my husband had been to the same emergency room - with a KIDNEY STONE. The on call doctor for this event looked at me and said that I looked familiar, and keep in mind a state of extreme stress will make you say some pretty odd things...."Well, you did such a good job with the kidney stone, we just wanted see what you could do with this..." Don't ask why I said that - I call it "word vomit" - sometimes statements just come out and I can't stop myself (I'm sure there's a competent therapist with my name all OVER a folder somewhere...) The look on his face was priceless indeed.

When they finally got my husband into the trauma area, we pieced together what had happened... Apparantly, when the skid loader pitched forward into the ditch, to keep from sliding out and under the machine and being killed (as he was NOT buckled in) my husband stuck his right leg out to prevent himself slipping out. But in his frantic state to brace himself with his left leg, it hit the controls to bring the bucket down, and it scissored his right leg between the cross member of the arms that control the bucket.

His leg was basically amputated in place. CRUSHED. Smushed. But it didn't come off. And even more weirdly, no bones protruded. But it began to swell, and swell...

After they took him into the MRI tunnel, the doctors looked very grave indeed. Because apparently, a crush is not like a break, or even an amputation... you have this little problem associated with the death of tissue called "compartment syndrome" which sets up another little problem called "gangrene" which can quickly translate into "DEATH."

Educational moment in Cliff's notes format - there is an envelope that encases every muscle that feeds blood and oxygen to the tissue - compartment syndrome is when that envelope is damaged, and the tissue begins to die (gangrene). This puts poison into your entire body.

The doctor looked at me and said:

"We have to take the leg off or he'll die."

All I could say was "NO." And I nearly passed out dropping into a chair.